The Return to Hogwarts

In the quiet park, by the clean roadside, Amosta stood under a tall, neatly trimmed ash tree, quietly gazing at the end of the road at a vast, luxurious manor. Its main exterior walls were made of pure white marble and inlaid with gold reliefs, a manor that rivaled even the famous Malfoy family mansion in the wizarding world. The thought crossed his mind.

After bringing Harry here once before, Amosta thought he would never come here again, but unexpectedly, a letter brought him here again.

The letter was written by someone from the manor, but it wasn't sent from this address.

After graduating from Hogwarts, Amosta began his 'journey around the world'. In case the orphanage needed to contact him in case of an emergency, he left a safe address in London where an owl could deliver letters to him at any time.

The letter I received back in St. Mungo's came from this same channel, but it wasn't sent by someone from the orphanage; it was sent by Lawrence, the current manager of Blaine Manor.

Although the Blaine family has declined, they clearly still possess considerable influence. It's likely that Lawrence found the orphanage through Muggle channels using the name 'Amosta Blaine'.

Despite the vibrant spring season, Blaine Manor exudes a sense of desolation.

A layer of ash had settled on the huge fountain in the center of the courtyard, indicating that it had been idle for some time.

Although the maple trees lining the cobblestone path were lush, their branches grew wildly, lacking some of their beauty. The imposing iron gate was also devoid of the dashing guards I'd seen before; instead, in a small room beside it, an elderly Muggle was dozing at a table.

Amosta did not disturb the soundly sleeping 'security guard'. He quietly approached the door, his figure flashed for a moment, and then he entered the spacious courtyard.

There wasn't a soul in sight in the vast courtyard; only inside the villa were a few servants listlessly maintaining its cleanliness.

The furnishings inside the mansion were largely unchanged from the last visit; the luxurious decorations remained unsold and were not used to maintain the estate. It was clear that the old butler of the Blaine family truly had a deep affection for the family.

But none of this was worth Amosta's lingering over. He appeared silently in a room on the east side of the third floor without alerting anyone.

He glanced at the room door, and for the first time since arriving here, his expression showed emotion.

When Mr. Blaine, who was related to him by blood, passed away, he left the Blaine family fortune to him. However, Amosta did not accept it. Instead, he suggested that the fortune be donated to charity according to Mr. Blaine's original wishes. This mansion was the only thing Lawrence wanted to keep.

Lawrence pleaded with Amosta not to sell the ancestral home and donate it, and although it was a bit presumptuous of him to do so, Amosta agreed.

Therefore, in theory, Lawrence is already the owner of Blaine Manor.

However, the bedroom he is currently living in is still the butler's room, not the master's room.

Whether a Muggle or a wizard, a person who is honest and has faith is always worthy of respect.

Tap, tap—

After a long while, a weak, hoarse voice came from behind the door.

Is that Sang Ke?

The voice said,

"Come in, you know I can't get out of bed to open the door for you right now."

Click——

Amosta turned the doorknob and went inside.

The room was small, but clean and tidy. It was quite dark because only a dim lamp was lit on the bedside table.

Amosta glanced at the medicine boxes on the bedside table, then turned his gaze to Lawrence on the bed.

The old butler, who was always mindful of his appearance, now had disheveled gray hair, dry and pale lips, and heavy eyeshadow under his tightly closed eyes. Judging from the rhythmic rise and fall of the blankets covering him, he was breathing with difficulty.

"Whoosh—whoosh--"

Lawrence breathed hoarsely, still not opening his eyes.

“I—I already said, Sank, I have no appetite right now. If I want to eat—whatever I want to eat, I'll tell you. Go and rest.”

Amosta pursed his lips, slowly walked over, looked down at Lawrence, and then at the somewhat gaunt old butler, said gently,

“You wrote to tell me that you wanted to see me one last time before you died, but, Lawrence, it seems to me that you still have a long way to go before you die.”

The labored breathing stopped immediately, and Lawrence on the sickbed suddenly opened his eyes.

In the dim light, he stared at that incredibly familiar young face, and the next second, he jolted awake, sitting up abruptly and exclaiming in delight.

"Young Master Blaine!"

Chapter 816 Unraveling

2024-03-21

"Young Master Blaine!"

Lawrence, who had just looked exhausted, suddenly sat up from his sickbed, staring at Amosta with surprise.

The old housekeeper thought he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes hard and, in the dim light of the lamp, stared intently at the young man beside the sickbed.

"It really is you, Mr. Blaine!"

Lawrence threw back the covers, preparing to get up, but Amosta pressed down on Lawrence's shoulder and pulled the covers back over him.

"Since you're sick, you should rest in bed, Lawrence."

Amosta said calmly.

"Also, you don't need to call me 'Young Master Blaine,' just call me Amosta."

“But that’s incredibly rude, Young Master Blaine.”

Lawrence blurted out, but when his gaze fell upon that young, composed yet dignified face in the shadows, Lawrence's heart skipped a beat, and he involuntarily stopped speaking.

It seems that young master Blaine is not as simple as he imagined.

Lawrence suddenly realized this.

Having spent most of his life in London's high society following the first two generations of the Blaine family patriarchs, Lawrence never considered himself a big shot. However, through his exposure to the world, he was quite confident in his discerning eye, as the Blaine family's demeanor was impossible to conceal.

Those in positions of power are those in positions of power; even if they are approachable, the confidence and authority they unintentionally exude are something that ordinary people cannot imitate.

Strangely, when he investigated the name 'Amosta Blaine', he couldn't find any young talents in any industry or profession with that name.

"As you wish, Amosta—"

Lawrence couldn't resist Amostana's calm gaze, so he had no choice but to stay in bed. Although there was a soft pillow behind him, Lawrence still kept his back ramrod straight, and even so, he still looked a little restless.

The face beside the sickbed, with its handsome, deep features, was almost identical to that of Mr. Blaine. He was used to maintaining a respectful posture when facing this face; it was ingrained in his instincts.

Now, he was sitting on the bed, with young master Blaine standing beside it. This feeling was incredibly awkward for Lawrence.

Amosta ignored Lawrence's anxious expression. Seeing that he was willing to stay in bed, she released her hand from his shoulder, turned her head and glanced at the simple room that didn't match the luxurious manor. She found that there wasn't even a chair in the room.

“Oh, I’ll let Sang.”

"No need."

Amosta waved his hand, stopping Lawrence from calling someone in.

However, it was indeed inconvenient to talk while standing, so Amosta placed the bedside lamp on Lawrence's bedside table, tidied up the scattered medicine boxes, and pulled out the bedside table to use as a stool.

After taking his seat, Amosta looked at Lawrence, who was watching him anxiously, and calmly asked,

What's wrong with you?

"I got a little rained on—"

After hesitating for a moment, Lawrence said in a low voice,

"As I get older, my health is not as good as it used to be."

A Muggle's lie is undoubtedly laughable in front of the most powerful wizard in the magical world, but when dealing with people, one must learn to tolerate their lies.

Amosta did not expose Lawrence's lie, but simply nodded. Then, he turned to look out the window at the tranquil manor and remained silent.

The clear moonlight spilled onto the lush lawn in front of the villa, and the crisscrossing cobblestone path reflected the dappled moonlight. This tranquil night scene softened the decay that permeated the estate.

"You've maintained this place quite well, Lawrence."

Amosta said with a smile.

"This is my duty."

Following Amosta's gaze, Lawrence also looked out the window at the manor where he had worked and lived for most of his life. Every inch of this land bore his footprints and the sweat he had shed.

"It was,"

Amosta bluntly stated this point in a rather cold tone.

"But if it's just a burden to you now, Lawrence, then I can give you some honest advice: get rid of it. No matter how much effort you put into it, it's no longer worth anything. I'm sure you understand at your age that no matter how much you cherish the past, you can't get it back."

Lawrence opened his mouth, but an indescribable emotion stuck in his throat, preventing him from speaking.

He wanted to ask the young man sitting next to him if he really harbored such resentment towards the manor and its former owners, but then he felt that the question was pointless.

“I want to apologize to you, Blaine Amosta—”

Lawrence didn't directly address Amosta's warning; instead, he lowered his head and said apologetically,

"I made a donation to that orphanage without your permission."

“This is certainly not what I wanted to see, Lawrence.”

Amosta said calmly,

“But I won’t blame you for that. After all, you did help the children at the Hass orphanage. And it’s your freedom to donate, and I have no right to restrict your behavior.”

Lawrence remained silent, but a sense of dejection filled his heart. Through the brief exchange, he finally realized that he could not persuade Young Master Blaine to return to his manor.

The loss of energy and spirit made Lawrence look somewhat listless again.

His life at the manor flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern. He entered the manor when he was still a naive young man. He studied and grew up here. Even his wife was introduced to him by the first family that made the 'Bryan' family famous. The young master's father, the deceased patriarch, wrote a letter of introduction for his child so that his child could enjoy a good education.