Wind and Eagle Wings at Hogwarts

Chapter 97 097. Father Michael Trollope

After drinking a cup of coffee, Scott tried his best to briefly but clearly finish all his experiences this semester.

Michael's expression after listening to it looked a little complicated.

He couldn't help but lit another cigarette and took another puff, looking up at Scott.

Through the rising smoke and the reflective lenses of his glasses, Scott couldn't see his eyes.

Michael said softly, "You know, until today, I thought you only had hair color and eyes like me, and a personality like your mother."

Scott understood what he meant.

Michael looks like an old-fashioned gentleman on the outside, but he's a hooligan on the inside, a high school dropout.

And Emilia, at least she graduated from a local university, Hastings College on the Sussex coast.

Scott grew up academically better than Mike when he was young.

Michael let out another puff of smoke, "But you're still a Trollope after all, son!"

He couldn't help laughing.

Scott squinted at him. "Is that funny?"

Michael grinned and said, "We are the descendants of the Normans, the Normans who conquered England with William I in the Middle Ages."

He pointed to the ground.

"The battle took place here, at our feet..."

Scott went on, in an emotionless, reciting tone, "Normans are descended from Vikings, descended from pirates."

He looked up at Michael, who was choked, and asked with a smile, "You always go back to the source? Why not start closer?"

Michael turned his head and pretended to look at the unchanging scenery outside the window.

But Scott didn't stop.

"My great-great-grandfather was a smuggler, my great-grandfather was a smuggler and intelligence dealer, and my grandfather was a smuggler, intelligence dealer and antique store owner. As for my father..."

He shrugged.

"It's a pity that he didn't develop a new career based on his grandfather, except as a young gangster who dropped out of school when he was young."

"Oh no!" He pretended to have just reacted, "Now he even lost the professions of a smuggler and an intelligence dealer!"

"Hey!"

Michael raised his hand to take off his glasses and turned his head to look at him dissatisfied.

Scott continued, "My father, Michael Trollope, was just an ordinary antique shop owner."

He spread his hands again and tilted his head.

"It's a shame isn't it? He's still a Viking descendant, maybe he can pick up his youth career to prove it."

"hiss……"

Michael gasped.

He put the glasses on the table, put the cigarette between his fingers in the ashtray, and lit the ashtray.

"It seems that you are more like Millie in terms of eloquence." He said amusingly.

Scott pouted, "I'll tell my dear mother this comment."

"Let's get back to the point."

Michael said sternly.

"I didn't expect the racial discrimination in your academy to be so serious, and now your kid is still carrying his life... As expected of the magic world, huh?"

Scott said: "To be honest, I thought...you'd react a little bit more after hearing what happened to me today..."

"What do you think I'll do?" Michael said exaggeratedly. "Frightened like a bitch, or accused you of being overly defensive? Don't make trouble, I'm your father."

He put on a look like "I've seen big winds and big waves", as if this matter was not worth mentioning to him.

Scott almost believed it, if he hadn't been able to see that Michael's face was paler than usual, and that the thumb and index finger of his right hand were constantly rubbing.

But Scott didn't debunk him.

"I don't know." Scott shook his head. "Maybe you accept it too easily, so I feel a little awkward."

"Ha ha ha ha……"

Michael stood up with a big laugh and opened his arms.

"Maybe my boy is still a little scared and needs another comforting hug?"

"..."

Scott refused with his eyes.

"Well, it looks like you don't need it."

Michael retracted his hands and sat down.

"What do you think?" he asked in a low voice, "why not just destroy the corpse?"

"No, I can't touch her body, who knows what clues will be left."

Scott shook his head.

"And, if it goes missing... the more secretive it is, the more attractive it is to explore, isn't it?"

Michael said: "According to you, the girl revealed the purpose of her leaving? Whether she is dead or missing, you are suspect."

"No, there is a difference."

Scott explained.

"In the current state, in the eyes of the wizards, the most likely cause of the girl's death was her servant's failed Apparition."

He emphasized, "Of course, this is also true. I think such a fact should be on the surface."

He continued to analyze.

"If the corpse is destroyed, as the target of her outing this time, it is very likely that I will become the first suspect who caused her disappearance, and the focus of the Aurors' investigation."

Talking to Michael up to now, watching his father try to comfort himself with alternative methods, Scott's mood has improved a lot.

"It's better to make a mess like this now and cause some trouble for the Ministry of Magic at Christmas," he said softly, "so they don't focus on me."

Michael threw away the cigarette butt, took out a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his glasses, and put them back on.

He muttered, "Maybe you're a genius in crime too, Scott."

Looking up and down at his son, he leaned closer and asked quietly, "Are you sure this is the first time you have done this kind of thing?"

"What?" Scott looked at him inexplicably.

"I mean... David," Michael whispered. "David Ward, who disappeared eight years ago, I remember fighting you before that boy disappeared."

"..."

Scott squinted at Michael again.

"Did you throw him off the cliff into the sea?" Michael asked again.

Scott said angrily, "Eight years ago, I was six, Mike."

"It's nothing." Michael said indifferently, "I also planned to throw the old boy Thomas in the sea when I was seven years old."

Scott rolled his eyes, "But you're 37 years old, and Thomas is still alive and kicking."

Without waiting for Michael to speak again, he added: "If your memory is correct, you should know that eight years ago, David sneaked into the fishing boat of the neighbor's house and disappeared, and he returned with the fishing boat three days later. It's gone!"

"I know, I thought you used magic to create a fake David." Michael quibble.

He looked at Rimbaud who was resting on Scott's shoulder, "Like you made this bird."

"..."

Scott was simply shocked by his brain hole.

"Magic can't make humans!" he said in an emphatic tone, "and I didn't know magic at that time, and I can't do it even now, and I'm not Merlin!"

"Okay, joke's over."

Michael put on a serious expression.

"I mean, Scott, are you sure you want to stay in the wizarding world?"

He asked Scott's eyes.

"It doesn't seem like it's friendly, it's not even peaceful."

His questioning at this moment is undoubtedly very serious.

"There you will lack freedom of choice, your origin is destined to stand against some people, and you can't even be sure what kind of person you will become in the future."

"Yes, Dad."

Scott also said seriously.

"The magical world is indeed not as beautiful as a fairy tale, and my future is full of uncertainties, but..."

He smiled.

"There's magic there, and I'm a wizard, that's enough."

……

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(End of this chapter)