"Kidnap Nicolas Flamel?"

Draco looked at Rosier with skepticism.

"Do you even have a wand?"

Rosier lowered his hand from his face, letting out a bitter laugh.

"How could a Squib possibly own a wand?"

"Then how in Merlin's name could you kidnap a master alchemist?!"

"The Aurors wanted to know the same thing." Rosier clutched his hair, his voice trembling, "They said I was under the Confundus Charm, that parts of my memory had been altered. The wizards who kidnapped Nicolas Flamel locked the couple in my house, right under my nose, while I was away in England with my wife!"

Harry looked at him with pity, unable to stop himself from asking,

"Your last name is Rosier, so you must have a very powerful family behind you, right? Didn't your parents or relatives come to defend you?"

At this question, Rosier's expression grew eerily calm. He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve.

"You're still young. You haven't seen the darker side of the Wizarding World yet. For pure-blood families, especially ones like the Rosiers, they have… standards for their descendants. According to pure-blood doctrine, Squibs aren't even supposed to exist in pure-blood families. The moment they discover one, they're cast out, disowned, erased from the family tree."

Draco's face paled. He looked as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, his gray eyes wide with shock. Harry, meanwhile, gasped.

"Cast out? By your own parents?"

Rosier nodded, his gaze distant, lost in memory.

"It happened not long after my tenth birthday. My parents finally accepted the truth… that no magical signs would ever manifest in me, that I was undeniably a Squib."

"I was terrified. By then, I already knew what would happen to a Squib born into a family like mine."

"Every morning I woke up, I'd panic, checking to make sure I was still in my own bed. I was afraid that one night, my parents would… quietly make me disappear."

"I begged them, over and over, to let me stay. I swore I'd do anything, even if I couldn't be a wizard. But they just sneered, saying I was worse than a house-elf, that my existence was a stain on their name."

"So, a week before my eleventh birthday, when all the other children had already received their acceptance letters from Beauxbatons, I got nothing. That was the last straw for them."

"My father and mother dragged me out of the house and abandoned me in Nice, near the Italian border. They cast spells on the manor's doors so I could never find my way back, never step inside again."

By now, Draco had pressed himself against the wall, his face ashen. His gray eyes were wide with disbelief.

Harry, too, was stunned. The worst he'd imagined was something like his life with the Dursleys, which is constant mistreatment. But the idea of parents abandoning their own child? That was beyond him.

Rosier, however, seemed numb, as if years of pain had drained all emotion from him.

"I wandered the streets of Nice for a week. Back then, I knew nothing about the Muggle World. I didn't understand cars, or the metro, or what police were. I didn't even know how normal people dressed. If it weren't for the kindness of strangers, I would've starved."

"Growing up, the Rosiers taught me that Muggles were stupid, filthy, inferior. I believed it… because that was all I knew. But after my noble pure-blood parents threw me away like trash, it was the Muggles who saved me. They fed me, took me to shelters, gave me a place to sleep."

Rosier felt a little emotional.

"Back then, someone even called the police for me, hoping they could help me find my parents. But I knew there was no way they could send me home. I told them I didn't know where I lived or who my parents were. They couldn't find anything, so in the end, they sent me to an orphanage."

"The church-run orphanage was just outside Paris, funded by two kind elderly folks."

"My time there was... peaceful. The nuns were gentle, and though the kids sometimes fought, the adults made sure nothing truly cruel ever happened."

"When I grew up, the nuns helped us find work. I became a car salesman in Paris. That's where I met my wife, Marie… a beautiful, lively woman. I loved her. She gave me a family again."

"But I never told her about magic. I was afraid it would bring her trouble. Then yesterday, when the Aurors arrested us… she was terrified. They separated us. I don't even know where she is now. I'm so worried… so, so worried."

"Liar!!!" Draco suddenly screamed, his face twisted with fury as he glared at Rosier, "You're lying! You're not even a Rosier! Pure-blood families don't produce Squibs! We're born noble… we'd never abandon our own! You're just trying to slander pure-blood wizards!"

With that, he stormed out, leaving Harry to awkwardly apologize to the stunned Rosier.

"I'm so sorry, sir. He's… sensitive about these things."

Rosier shook his head. He understood why Draco had reacted that way.

"It's alright. That's how they're raised. If I weren't a Squib… if I hadn't lived through all this myself, I'd probably be just as ignorant."

Then, his expression turned pleading as he looked at Harry.

"The Aurors said they're almost certain I'm innocent, but they still won't let me leave this room. Could you… could you find out where my wife Marie is? I'm terrified she won't forgive me for hiding the truth. If possible, I'd like you to apologize to her for me."

Harry, who has always been righteous and brave and considers himself a hero, immediately thumped his chest in assurance.

"Of course I'll help! Leave it to me!"