"Enervate."

Xavier stirred and let his cold grey blue eyes flutter open. His eyes adjusted to the low lantern light and a wave of panic washed over him as he realized two very important things. The first being that he recognized where he was and the second - and possibly the more pressing - was that he was tied tightly to the wrought iron chair he was currently sitting in.

"Try not to struggle, it'll only cause the bonds to wrap tighter." The deep voice echoed from somewhere behind him and was just as recognizable as the room was.

Heavy footfalls indicated that the source of the voice was coming closer. It wasn't long before the tall, muscular form of Arathorn Wentworth stood in front of him. He gave the man a nasty sneer and a quick heave against his restraints.

"Come now Xavier, no need to make faces. I'm not an unreasonable man. If I thought for one second that you wouldn't try to hex my face off the first chance you got I wouldn't have tied you up."

Xavier realized he could feel the weight of his wand still nestled safely in his jeans pocket. He knew Arathorn could have just taken his wand away instead of tying him up but then that wouldn't have stopped him from punching the older man in the face - something he really wanted to do right about now, "So wha' do ye want?"

A small smile crossed the elder man's lips, "What do I want? I want you, son."

Xavier snarled fiercely, "I ain't yer son, an' I ain't Henry's son eitha. He gave tha' up whin he chose Peyton ova me."

A boiling rage was brewing behind Arathorn's cool grey blue eyes - the same eyes that had been  passed down to both of his grandsons - as he clenched his fist tightly around his wand, "Henry was wrong for what he did and I'm ashamed for ever having been a part of it. I should have never let him leave your mother for that muggle harlot."

Xavier's own rage subsided for a moment. He had never pegged his grandfather as a muggle hater, especially considering his fondness for muggle weaponry. After all Arathorn had been the one to teach him how to fight, how to use discipline as a way to deal with his own anger towards his father. His anger soon resurfaced though as his words sunk in, "Ye knew?! Ye knew this whole time where he was an' ye neva said anythin! Ye let us believe he was dead, thee whole time knowin' he was livin' some otha life wit some otha woman."

Arathorn's jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, "I had no choice. Peyton was born a year before you were. If I didn't make Henry vanish he would have ruined everything that generations of Wentworth's have worked to build." He let out a long breath, "Henry gave up more than you know that day. He gave up his family, his wand, all magic and everything the Wentworth name afforded him."

Xavier rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Like thee Wentworth name means anythin'." Once his father had left, Xavier had dropped Wentworth from his name preferring to be associated with the Tawse' instead.

Arathorn stepped closer and leaned forward, "You have no idea who you are, do you kid?"

Xavier narrowed his eyes wondering what the hell the old man was rambling on about now, "Whit ye talkin' bout?"

Arathorn straightened to his full height looming over his bound grandson, "When your father walked out on you he gave up everything, including his own inheritance. For generations the Wentworth fortune has been passed down from father to son. Every generation only ever has one son, been our family curse so to speak. With Henry out of the picture everything gets passed down to you."

Xavier lifted his eyes to stare up at his grandfather. He had never paid much attention to the family business before. It had always just been a job for his father, not something he wanted to actually persue but something he was forced into. He hadn't wanted that for Xavier and so he never involved him, "Whit ye sayin' old man?"

"Xavier you are the sole heir to the Wentworth fortune. When you come of age my entire empire is yours. Of course I'll run the business till the day I die like my father did and his did before him but you'll be one of the richest wizards in Britain."

Xavier dropped his eyes for a moment taking it all in. If his father had stuck around all of it would have been his. He would have the burden of running the company when Arathorn died but he'd be living comfortable for the rest of his life. He couldn't imagine any woman being worth leaving all of that behind, "What about Peyton?"

A flare of anger crossed Arathorn's eyes for a moment, "As far as I'm concerned Peyton doesn't exist. He has no more right to that fortune than your father does."

Xavier mulled it over again for a few more moments, "So wha's thee catch?"

Arathorn couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped his lips, "You go back to school. You become a properly educated man. You pass your OWLs and your NEWTs and I don't hear about any more fighting or running away."

Xavier narrowed his eyes again, "I can' go back there. Not now. I can' face Callum an' Bella an' . . . me brotha."

"I'll help you with all that if you promise to behave."

Xavier had no idea what he planned to do to help with his problems at Hogwarts. How was he supposed to patch things up with Callum, if he even wanted to. How was he supposed to explain to Bella why he had left her behind and how in the world was he supposed to face Peyton always knowing that their father thought he was the better son, "So all I hafta do is go back ta school, finish me OWLs an' NEWTs an' when I turn seventeen I become a billionaire?"

Arathorn nodded and Xavier took a deep breath, "Alright old man ye got yerself a deal now whit ye plan on doin' about - "

Xavier was cut off as Arathorn raised his wand, "Obliviate!"