Bulstrode

Sean looked at the shattered desk in front of him and gazed somewhat dazedly at his parents standing by the doorway.

If he was not mistaken, at this moment, besides shock at the unexpected accident, there was also a trace of unspeakable envy and wild joy on his parents' faces.

What was going on here?

Could it be that this couple had long found his desk an eyesore?

How could they harbor such deep-seated hatred and bitter animosity toward his desk?

Wait...

How did this desk shatter again?

In his past life, Sean had read Harry Potter, but he never expected that after crossing over, he would actually transmigrate into the world of Harry Potter.

During the first ten years after his transmigration, besides complaining about why he had transmigrated to the United Kingdom, Sean had been preparing to enter a private school and get ready to test back into China. He had even planned out that after returning to China, he would go to Hong Kong to make a name for himself in the entertainment industry, relying on the foresight of his past life to cause a stir and become a mogul in the entertainment business.

As a result, he was told now that this world was the world of Harry Potter. Counting on his fingers, he would be enrolling at the exact same age as Harry Potter. This cliché template caused the danger level to rise straight up.

Sitting on the sofa, Sean hugged a cup of hot milk and temporarily stopped his endless inner monologue.

If he had a choice, Sean would choose not to enter the Magical World and continue walking down the path of life he had planned for himself. However, there was a thing called an Obscurus in this world. Sean could not remember the specifics, only that if magical children did not receive proper guidance, they might give birth to such an unreasonable thing as an Obscurus, and their rampaging magic would ultimately kill them. Although Sean felt there was a high probability he would not spawn an Obscurus, for the sake of his little life, even with a one-in-a-billion chance, Sean dared not gamble.

Moreover, Sean's parents obviously hoped very much that he could enter the Magical World. Especially since they were both Squibs expelled by their respective families, having a child who could do magic would not only allow the two of them to hold their heads a little higher, but more importantly, it would allow them to be reaccepted by their own families.

This must be the Pure-blood families' PUA of their Squib members.

Lifting his head to look at the old man who had returned after finishing his phone call, Sean asked, "Dad, do wizards use telephones too?"

Hearing the words of his magical genius son, Yad, who was already very fond of his son, immediately replied, "The family side doesn't use phones. Wizards mostly contact each other using owls or fireplaces. Telephones are the contact method for peripheral family members. We have to contact the family through the peripheral members."

So it turns out Squibs can't even contact the family directly...

Sean's impression of this family grew increasingly lukewarm.

Dad contacted the family over there, but Mom didn't make any moves on this side. Sean was not surprised by this. Prior to this, Sean had already known that Mom didn't have any relatives left on her side; his grandfather and grandmother had died in an accident many years ago. Now it seemed very likely that this timing coincided with the period when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was making trouble. Muggle-born wizards were targeted by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the Death Eaters back then.

Of course, these were just Sean's guesses. He hadn't asked his mom about the specifics. After all, put plainly, asking about such things was like reopening old scars, and asking would be completely meaningless.

Picking up the cup in his hand, the temperature of the milk was just right for drinking.

Drinking it in small, dainty sips, just as the milk in the cup reached the bottom, the front door of the house was knocked on.

Dad looked rather excited and immediately got up to open the door.

As the sound of the door opening rang out, Sean's father accompanied three middle-aged and elderly men and women dressed in robes as they walked in cautiously. Among the three, the old man standing in the middle directly ignored his father, who wanted to say something, and his mom, who was greeting them, and looked straight at Sean, who was sitting on the sofa.

This scene completely dispelled Sean's curiosity about this so-called family and the very last shred of favorable impression originating from their bloodline.

"You're Sean? Sean Bulstrode?"

Putting down the cup in his hand, as far as Sean was concerned, disliking them was one thing, but he must absolutely not do anything impolite that would let people point fingers at his parents and make them lose face. Face is something you earn back. Earning back the face that should have belonged to his parents started right now!

Standing up from the sofa, Sean looked at the other party, gave a slight bow, and said, "I am Sean Bulstrode, son of Yad Bulstrode and Martha Carter."

As soon as Sean's voice trailed off, the plump middle-aged man standing behind the old man let out a soft, sneering laugh. "Hah, carter."

The surname Carter also carried the meaning of a wagon driver.

On ordinary days, this wouldn't be a problem at all, but spoken from the other party's mouth, it possessed the implication of despising a lowly identity. Martha herself came from a Muggle-born wizard family, and on top of that, she was a Squib. To these pure-bloods who fancied themselves born noble, Martha's background could be said to be low to the extreme, and to a certain extent, she was perhaps even inferior to a Muggle.

Seeing this scene, Sean's expression turned stern. Politeness was politeness, but if anyone insulted his mom, there was no need for something like politeness to exist.

However, before Sean could speak, the old man let out a cold snort and said sternly to the plump middle-aged man, "Borel, you are too rude. It seems you've completely forgotten the etiquette I taught you since childhood. When we get back, copy the family etiquette for me until I'm satisfied!"

The old man's majesty could not be shaken. Even though the plump middle-aged Borel did not feel there was any problem with his words and actions just now, he still lowered his head to his father and low-voicedly agreed to his father's punishment for him.

Having punished his youngest son, the old man turned his head to look at Sean and said, "Are you satisfied with this punishment?"

Slightly startled, Sean looked at the old man somewhat queerly. He couldn't quite see through the other person, but whether he could see through him or not, at this very moment, he immediately made a response, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment as he said, "Thank you very much."

"My name is Gavin, Gavin Bulstrode, the father of Yad and Borel. From now on, just call me grandfather directly." Having said that, the old man Gavin took out a badge and a Gold Ticket from his person, walked up to Sean's front, signaled for Sean to reach out, and placed them into his hand.

At this moment, Gavin spoke once more, "This is the family badge and the family grant. If your father were a wizard, then you could enjoy more family privileges. Unfortunately, your father is a Squib, and the family has already expelled your father, so your treatment can only be handled according to magical children among the peripheral members. This is the family rule, and it has nothing to do with individuals. I hope you can understand what I mean."

Looking at the things in his hand, Sean nodded slightly and said, "I understand. In a family, the rules must be obeyed; otherwise, the family will definitely not last long. However, these things are given to me by the family. Then as my grandfather, what are you preparing to give me?"

As soon as these words were spoken, looks of terror and worry immediately surged onto the faces of Yad and Martha, while expressions of disdain and mockery appeared on Borel's face. Yet, constrained by the punishment his father had just given him, Borel held back the urge to speak out with mockery and scolding.

Gavin looked at the child before him. He was only ten years old, yet he possessed a maturity beyond his expectations. That poise and self-possession were extremely rare in children of this age. Looking and looking, Gavin suddenly felt as though he were seeing his younger self—equally mature and steady.

A slight curve hooked the corner of Gavin's mouth. He slowly squatted down, and under the astonished gazes of Borel and the other middle-aged woman, he met the eyes of this grandson whom he hadn't interacted with much before, and said, "I like smart children. As a reward, I have three things here, and you can choose any one of them. This is an admission gift given to you in advance by your grandfather!"