Jon did not think his parents' talk about having more children was a sudden whim.
Still, he was eleven. Whatever he said would not change their minds.
He looked around the table at their hopeful expressions and sighed, nodding once.
It was not worth arguing.
He understood the reasoning, even if it felt strange to be part of it. Wizarding families in Britain were shrinking. Bloodlines mattered, whether anyone liked it or not. If his existence gave them hope that the Smith line was not finished, then fine. Let them have it.
As for living alone, his grandmother's manor stood next door. He would not truly be alone.
"Will you come see me off when school starts?" Jon asked, breaking the silence.
"Of course," his father said immediately. "We'll take you and Bella to the station together."
Henry looked almost childishly eager. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters clearly fascinated him more than it should have.
Jon smiled faintly.
Muggles usually could not enter the platform, but his father was a registered Squib. And this world did not always match the books he remembered. Diagon Alley alone had been proof of that. Reality, or at least his reality, rewrote itself one detail at a time.
After dinner, his parents returned to Greenwich by Floo.
Jon stayed behind.
Bella was visibly delighted. Holidays at Isa Yewell Manor were usually quiet. Too quiet. Having the company changed everything.
"You know," she teased, "you're stuck with me now."
"Tragic," Jon muttered, earning a flick of her hair.
He did not have the energy to argue properly. The day had drained him. Travel, shopping, revelations. Even this eleven-year-old body felt heavier than he preferred.
"Tell me about Hogwarts instead," he said. "Maybe teach me a few beginner spells tomorrow."
Bella brightened at once. "Really? Fine. Two spells. But if you fall asleep halfway through, I'm telling Grandma."
Jon smirked. "Deal."
He retired early, collapsing onto the guest bed. For once, he let sleep take him without analysis.
Morning arrived with a vibration.
Jon woke, frowning as a low rumble passed through the floorboards. Machinery, here?
He dressed quickly and stepped into the hall. Bella was already at the window, arms folded as she watched the activity outside.
"The construction started early," she said.
Jon followed her gaze.
Muggle builders moved around the old Smith manor. Drills whined. Cranes groaned. Shouted instructions carried through the air. The neighbouring estate, long dormant, buzzed with life.
"The wards faded years ago," Bella explained. "Once the magic went, the house aged like everything else."
"So it's really falling apart," Jon said.
"Was," she corrected. "Uncle hired the crew yesterday."
Jon noticed an older man near the gate, speaking with Aunt Margaret.
"Oh, him," Bella said. "The old housekeeper. Retired last year. Uncle made sure he was looked after."
Jon nodded.
"So I'll be living there alone," he said.
The thought was equal parts freedom and responsibility.
"Not exactly," Bella said, grinning. "Grandma arranged something. She says it's part of your inheritance. I say it's unfair."
Jon frowned. "Arranged what?"
"She bought you a house-elf."
Jon stopped. "She did what?"
Bella laughed at his expression. "Relax. Grandma said it's practical. And expensive."
Jon leaned against the window frame, exhaling slowly.
House-elves were not accessories. They were bindings, contracts, and obligations. Even families older than his grandmother thought twice before keeping one.
"That's… not cheap," he said.
"Exactly," Bella replied.
Warmth settled in his chest despite himself. Carolina Yewell did nothing casually. If she invested, she committed fully.
"It still feels strange," Jon said quietly. "Being this fortunate."
Downstairs, breakfast waited.
Aunt Margaret sat at the table, sorting parchment. Jon joined her, already thinking several steps ahead.
"Aunt Margaret," he said, "while the house is being repaired, could we adjust the layout? Better lighting. A proper study. Maybe a reinforced room for spell practice."
She looked up, amused. "You have not even moved in yet."
"Habit," Jon replied. "I used to read a lot about building design."
She smiled, letting the half-truth pass. "It is your house. We can shape it properly. Magical reinforcement will have to wait until the builders finish, though."
"That's fine," Jon said. "I just want somewhere safe to practise before term."
Her expression softened. "You remind me of your mother at that age. Thoughtful. Quiet. Planning ten steps ahead."
Jon smiled.
"If Bella is teaching you spells," she added, "I suspect your summer will not be dull."
He nodded. "She's already started planning."
"Then welcome home," Aunt Margaret said simply.
Jon felt it settle into place.
Not luck.
Not destiny.
Belonging.
Sunlight filled the room. Outside, hammers rang against stone. Somewhere in the old manor next door, foundations were being exposed.
And something unseen took notice.
Not eager.
Not hostile.
Patient.
(End of Chapter 7)