The Return to Hogwarts

Every two steps the Dursleys took, they would turn around and glare fiercely at Harry, who had made such a fool of himself so quickly, when the old butler wasn't looking. Dudley beside him also kept looking at him with a mocking gaze, but the dazed Harry didn't care at all. His mind was filled with the image of the person in the photograph he had just caught a glimpse of.

"If he really is Professor Blaine's father, then how could Professor Blaine, with such an enviable and illustrious family background, have become an orphan?"

Harry pursed his lips and looked at the old butler named Lawrence, who was walking at the front, with a puzzled expression. If the Dursleys hadn't emphasized so many times yesterday that he shouldn't speak carelessly, he probably would have already rushed up to ask if any children had ever gone missing from this manor!

They followed Lawrence to a room on the top floor, where medical staff in white coats were coming and going, each with a very solemn expression on their face.

Upon opening the door, Harry frowned involuntarily at the pungent smell of medicine. His gaze eagerly swept past Lawrence, who was giving Uncle Vernon five minutes of instructions, and into the room. He found the cold-toned room filled with various Muggle medical instruments. Harry's view was blocked by a ventilator placed beside the bed, preventing him from seeing the manor owner lying on the bed.

One by one, the caregivers left the room, and Lawrence led them inside. When they stood before the man's bed and saw his condition, everyone, including Harry, gasped.

If it weren't for the incomprehensible curves flickering on the computer screen next to the hospital bed, he would most likely have thought it was a bald, shriveled corpse.

The person in the hospital bed was so thin that he was practically skin and bones, like a skeleton covered with a layer of human skin.

Uncle Vernon, who had rehearsed his greetings countless times in his mind, felt as if someone had choked him, while Aunt Penny, who had planned to compliment Mr. Blaine on his good health, couldn't utter a single word, let alone Dudley, who had never seen anyone in such a miserable state.

Harry felt he didn't need to observe anything anymore; if Mr. Blaine were to die any second now, Harry wouldn't be surprised at all.

"It seems my appearance has frightened you, Vernon—"

Mr. Blaine, wearing a breathing mask, spoke in a weak, strained voice, thwarting Harry's attempt to determine his age by his voice.

“You look quite well, I mean, Mr. Blaine.”

Uncle Vernon's face was flushed red with an unpleasant smile, and some inexplicable emotions were brewing within him.

After all, the man in the hospital bed had been his boss for so many years, and he had always admired this man so much. But now, this brilliant man was lying in a hospital bed, on his deathbed.

At that moment, Uncle Vernon suddenly regretted his private plans. He shouldn't have thought about tormenting Mr. Blaine anymore; letting the man die peacefully was the best way to give him dignity.

Five minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief as they left the ward.

The manor's old butler, Lawrence, escorted them back to the gate and had Uncle Vernon's car brought over. While waiting, Harry noticed that the Dursleys all looked listless. Unable to contain his curiosity, he casually moved closer to Lawrence and asked in a soft voice,

"Perhaps it is a bit presumptuous of me to say this, sir, but does Mr. Blaine have children? Why aren't they with him?"

The old butler looked at the polite child with surprise, raised his gray eyebrows, and his voice betrayed regret.

"Mr. Blaine has never been married, child—"

Even though Harry lowered his voice, the Dursleys still heard the abrupt and rude question, but neither Uncle Vernon nor Aunt Petunia said a word of reproach.

On the way home, the car was quiet and there was no conversation. Harry was deep in thought, and the Dursleys did not question him about his intentions. They wondered how much he planned to get a potion to keep Mr. Blaine going a little longer, or even to find a skilled healer.

This silence continued even after they arrived home.

Uncle Vernon turned on the TV to watch the morning news replay, Aunt Penny went into the kitchen to prepare lunch, and Dudley opened the refrigerator to replenish his energy.

Harry stood at the top of the stairs, ignored by everyone, as if nothing had happened.

"I need to open Hedwig's cage—"

Harry, who usually rejoiced at being deliberately ignored by the Dursleys, this time deliberately drew everyone's attention. Before Uncle Vernon's breathing quickened and he was about to roar, and before Aunt Petunia could unleash a stern rebuke, Harry spoke with unwavering conviction.

"I need it to help me deliver a letter."

Chapter 132 Visit

7 month 29 day.

Sunday morning was just as bright as the day before. The dazzling sunlight shone on the clean and tidy Privet Road, and the colorful and vibrant flowers in the meticulously maintained private gardens on both sides of the road swayed gently in the breeze, vying for attention.

The air inside was a bit stuffy. Harry kicked everything related to Potions homework off the bed with a bang, turned over to face the birdcage hanging on the window grille, and felt extremely irritated.

Every year in the past, Harry would feel very irritable around this time, and the reason is very easy to understand: the last day of July is his birthday, but his aunt and uncle obviously wouldn't be considerate enough to throw him a birthday party. The only way they would celebrate his birthday would probably be to make him do less housework on that day.

However, the reason for his irritability on the eve of his birthday this year was a little different.

Clang!

A strange noise suddenly came from the street outside the window, making Harry, who had been drooping his eyelids, abruptly sit up. He rushed to the window, but when he saw that the noise was coming from a garbage truck collecting trash cans on the side of the road, Harry looked disappointed and slumped back onto the edge of the bed.

"Are you sure you gave him that letter?"

After several days of arduous travel, Hedwig, exhausted, was resting in her birdcage when she heard Harry's questioning voice. She blinked, cooed a few times in dissatisfaction, and then tucked her head under her other wing to continue resting.

After a heavy sigh, Harry stared blankly at the light and shadow on the white wall, completely unaware that half a minute after he looked away, a soft popping sound came from Privet Drive.

Privet Road, Little Huigkin, Surrey County

Amusta, dressed as a Muggle and holding a wand, suddenly appeared on Privet Drive. The moment he appeared, he cautiously scanned his surroundings to make sure no Muggles saw him. Once he confirmed that no one was around, he breathed a sigh of relief, put his wand in his pocket, and began to look around at the scenery with interest.

No. 7, Privet Road

A few steps away, a bronze plaque in front of a house told Amosta his exact location. After glancing around a few times, he confirmed the location of No. 4 Privet Drive mentioned in the letter, and then walked towards it at a leisurely pace.

Standing in front of the house at number four Privet Drive, Amusta didn't rush to cross the garden and knock on the door. Instead, she stood on the street, admiring the blooming roses and agapanthus in the garden, basking in the golden sunlight and inhaling the rich fragrance of the flowers. After a while, making sure that she had completely calmed down, Amusta smiled and knocked on the door.

Du, du, du—

Ten seconds after the gentle knock, hurried footsteps came from inside the house. Amosta took a step back and waited quietly for someone to open the door.

The woman who opened the door was very thin, but tall, and her gloomy, long face also left a deep impression on Amosta.

"I'm sorry to disturb you while you're making breakfast, ma'am—"

Amostah glanced at the steaming shovel in Aunt Penny's hand, maintained a polite smile, and nodded.

"But Harry Potter, who lives in this house, wrote me a letter, telling me about the situation and hoping I could come visit, so—oh, of course, it's fine if you prefer another time—"

A hush fell over the air. Aunt Penny stared at the young man five feet away, her gaze shifting from confusion to blankness, then gradually to terror. Finally, before Amosta could greet her again, she let out a horrified scream.

"You, you have to come quick, Vernon, I must be seeing a ghost!!!"

Watching Aunt Penny practically tumble and crawl into the house, Amosta raised an eyebrow, seemingly not too surprised. In fact, when he saw in Porter's letter that his uncle was a long-time employee of that drilling company, he had already anticipated that a similar situation might occur.

"So--"

Amosta tilted his head and looked into the chaotic living room.

"Could I pretend that I have already accepted your warm invitation to come into the room?"

In the kitchen, the dining table had been overturned, and the Dursleys huddled in the corner, trembling and silent as they watched the young man walk in.

"Oh my god!"

Standing in the living room, watching Potter practically leap down the stairs, Amosta wore a surprised expression.

"It's only been four months, Potter, and you've grown so much taller! Did you secretly drink growth hormones?"

"Professor Blaine!"

Panting, Harry stared at Professor Blaine, who, apart from his attire, was almost identical to the image in his mind. His trembling voice revealed his excitement and agitation.

"You really came! I mean, I thought Hedwig had lost the letter I wrote, or that it had been sent to the wrong person!"

"Heh heh, your owl is very clever, Potter—"

Amosta chuckled, glancing at the chaotic kitchen. He snapped his fingers, and the collapsed table creaked and twisted, slowly rising to its feet. The bacon and fried eggs scattered on the floor spun rapidly, bouncing away the dust before tossing themselves back onto their restored plates. Once everything was back to normal, Amosta looked apologetically at the Dursleys, who had been startled and climbed onto the counter.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, I seem to have given you a bit of a fright?"

"Young man, you...you really cured him!"

Uncle Vernon's small eyes bulged out of their sockets, and he stared at Harry as if it were the first time they had ever met.

Although he had a lot to say to Professor Blaine, the Dursleys' appearance made Harry chuckle. Looking at his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, who were trembling on the kitchen counter with expressions of utter disbelief, and Dudley hiding behind them clutching his bottom, he suddenly felt playful. So, in a nonchalant tone, he said…

“Yes, I had someone heal him—” Harry nodded and said, “It was something I promised you.”

"You...you really are Mr. Blaine--"

"Uncle Vernon said in a gruff voice."

“This is a young man, Vernon—”

The more astute Aunt Penny buried her face in Uncle Vernon's broad arm and whispered a reminder.

He knows their stuff—

Dudley muttered quietly behind Uncle Vernon's back.

"Please come down, all three of you—"

Amosta glanced at Harry, then chuckled as he looked at the Dursleys.

"If you don't mind, we can have breakfast together; I'm actually quite hungry."

Chapter 133 Yes, I know

The kitchen, now neat and tidy, was shrouded in an odd atmosphere. Under this influence, the Dursleys, the owners of the house, remained silent. They sat at one side of the dining table, motionless like wax figures, their eyes not on Harry, who was hurriedly recounting the cause and effect of the matter, but on Amosta, who was slowly and methodically preparing a fried egg.

When Harry mentioned his confusion about whether any wizards had ever had cancer, Amosta put down his knife, looked up, and said...

"No, Potter, wizards don't get that disease—"

"Why, Professor Blaine?"

Although he knew Mr. Blaine was no longer the Hogwarts Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry still addressed him that way. Faced with Professor Blaine's reply, he looked puzzled. "I don't know anything about this disease, Professor, but I don't think it will affect us just because we're wizards."