Isa Yewell Manor did not announce itself.
It waited.
Stone walls rose behind old trees, ivy claiming every surface it could reach. The house felt less like a building and more like something that had decided to remain where it stood centuries ago.
Jon stepped out of the Floo and brushed ash from his sleeve. His father followed, coughing softly.
"I will never like that," Henry said.
"You say that every time," Lynn replied.
"And I mean it more each time."
A house-elf stood nearby, hands folded neatly. Her clothes were simple, clean, and chosen rather than inherited.
"Welcome home," she said, bowing. "Mistress Lynn. Master Henry. Young Master Jon."
Jon nodded back without thinking.
She smiled at that.
The manor corridors were wide but restrained. There was no excess and no shouting magic. Lamps glowed steadily. Enchantments hummed so quietly they felt structural rather than decorative.
"This place is organised," Henry murmured. "That's rare."
"It's intentional," Lynn said.
They entered the sitting room.
Carolina Yewell sat near the window, wand in hand, shaping a block of wood into something precise and elegant. She did not look up at once.
"Mother," Lynn said.
Only then did Carolina glance over her glasses.
"Lynn," she replied. Her gaze shifted. "Jon."
He stepped forward. "Good evening, Grandma."
Her expression softened. Not indulgent. Assessed, then accepted.
"You've changed," she said.
Jon smiled faintly. "So people keep telling me."
"Mm. They usually mean it as praise. I mean it as an observation."
She tapped the seat beside her. Jon sat.
"You're quieter," she continued. "That can mean confidence or caution."
"Both," Jon said.
Her lips curved slightly. "A sensible answer."
Henry and Lynn settled across from them. Henry's attention drifted almost immediately toward the corridor leading to the library.
Carolina noticed.
"You're welcome to it," she said. "Just don't reorganise anything."
"I wouldn't dare," Henry replied at once.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Margaret Yewell appeared, her daughter close behind. Bella spotted Jon instantly.
"You're taller," she declared.
"You're louder," Jon replied.
They grinned.
Before long, the adults sank into conversation. Jon and Bella slipped outside.
The garden was orderly but alive. Water flowed gently in the fountain. Fireflies hovered without spells guiding them.
Bella pointed at his sleeve. "Is that your wand?"
Jon handed it over.
She gave it an experimental wave.
Nothing happened.
She frowned. "Rude."
"It has standards," Jon said.
She handed it back. "So. Hogwarts."
He listened as she talked. Complaints. Rivalries. Professors with too much pride and too little patience.
When she finally paused, he asked, "What House do you think I'll end up in?"
She studied him. "Not Slytherin."
"Agreed."
"Not Gryffindor either."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You don't rush," she said. "You wait."
"Hufflepuff?" he offered.
She stared at him. "You're strange."
"Dependable," he corrected.
From the balcony, Carolina's voice carried. "Ten minutes."
Bella sighed. "She hasn't changed."
"No," Jon said quietly. "She hasn't."
As they returned inside, the house-elf opened the door for them.
She met Jon's eyes. "Good masters notice small things."
Jon inclined his head.
The manor felt heavier as he stepped back inside.
Not hostile.
Aware.
(End of Chapter 4)