What was it that changed me, you ask? When did it happen, you wonder? Let me tell you. It was her; the girl I had hated for years, the girl I had picked on and called horrid names, my enemy's best friend. I didn't notice the change straight away; it took me years to realise how I'd changed. It wasn't until I saw her again that I understood what she had done to me as she had been screaming in agony on the floor of the drawing room. It had changed him, seeing her in that much pain; watching his own aunt torture her with a flick of her wand.
At the end of the war, he'd never imagined seeing her again. They had left the country after their trials and had had no intentions of returning but things changed. His parents wanted to come home and he had wanted them to be happy. He had worked hard to repair the damage done to their family name and between him and his father they had raised the profile of the family business throughout Europe and America.
He hadn't been looking forward to returning to Wizarding Britain partly because he hadn't been sure why his parents had been so keen to return. He had had a feeling that they had wanted to find him a nice British witch to settle down with. He hadn't wanted to return to the old society and he definitely didn't want to marry one of his old school friends. He had returned to England weary, hoping to hide away inside the manor with his work for the foreseeable future but his parents wouldn't allow it. They were determined to regain their position in British wizarding society, by whatever means.