The Return to Hogwarts

"It's because of magic."

Amosta swallowed the food in his mouth and said calmly,

"This touches on the fundamental difference between wizards and Muggles, Potter. Indeed, we are like Muggles, with cells in our bodies constantly becoming diseased, but we have a high concentration of magic in our bodies that Muggles do not have."

Magic is an incredibly powerful force, much like a unique immune system that exists only in a wizard's body. When it detects a disease that has evolved naturally, magic will spontaneously eradicate the source of the disease—”

Looking at Potter, who was sitting up straight without realizing it, as if he were in class, Amosta smiled. To be honest, putting aside Dumbledore's unpleasant 'teasing', he had quite a lot of fun during the few months he returned to Hogwarts in the first half of the year.

"--The vast majority of pathogens that are not mixed with abnormal magic cannot cause wizards to get sick. In addition, magic also has a slight effect on strengthening physical fitness. So you will find that as long as there is no illness or disaster, most wizards with high magic power will live a long life."

"Just like Headmaster Dumbledore!"

Harry, who had been looking a little confused, immediately realized what was happening.

"You're almost a rival to Rupert Hagrid for Dumbledore's number one fan," Potter Amosta thought to himself, rolling his eyes but nodding with a smile.

Aunt Penny, sitting opposite him, heard this and her fearful eyes revealed a hint of envy. As the conversation continued, Uncle Vernon, who occupied almost half of the other side of the table, unconsciously clenched his fists hidden under the table, and his deliberately suppressed breathing gradually became heavier. It seemed that he had reached the limit of his endurance.

In fact, if it weren't for the fact that this young man, who exuded a very special aura, looked almost exactly like Mr. Blaine, he probably would have already 'politely' asked him to leave.

But since this topic has been brought up, Uncle Vernon is filled with confusion again.

This man must be Mr. Blaine's son—Uncle Vernon figured it out without much intelligence. His eyes may have been inherited from his mother, but his features and that soft gray hair were almost identical to Mr. Blaine's when he was young. It would be puzzling if they weren't father and son!

But Mr. Blaine has no children, a fact confirmed even by Mr. Blaine's butler, Mr. Lawrence!

Uncle Vernon had spent most of his life at that drilling company and knew the family situation of every long-time employee, let alone their boss, Mr. Currad Blaine.

Could it be that Mr. Blaine has an illegitimate son that even his loyal old butler, Lawrence, doesn't know about?!

Uncle Vernon blinked his pig eyes, convinced he had discovered a shocking truth.

Since Mr. Blaine has no other children besides this illegitimate son, why hasn't he ever thought of bringing him back, even though he's in such a state of illness? After all, he has such a vast fortune with no heir.

Watching the young man enjoying Penny's breakfast and chatting animatedly with Penny's annoying nephew, Uncle Vernon strained his head, quietly pondering the question.

Suddenly, Uncle Vernon's eyes widened and he held his breath as a possibility occurred to him!

From the conversation, it can be inferred that this man had been a professor at that school that specialized in teaching petty theft for a period of time, which means that he must also be the kind of eccentric, attention-seeking person that they despise!

Mr. Blaine certainly knew this. Without a doubt, Mr. Blaine was a respectable man, so he refused to acknowledge or publicly reveal that he had such a shameful illegitimate son until his death, and he did not want to have any connection with him!

Amosta, seemingly sensing something, glanced casually at Uncle Vernon, whose expression had changed. He was a little puzzled as to why the fat man, who had just shown confusion and fear towards him, suddenly exuded a sense of superiority.

Also, that child, who's practically a miniature version of him, has been covering his bottom ever since he saw me. What's wrong with him? Could it be that he's been persecuted by someone, leading to some kind of misunderstanding about me?

"--I saw a photograph in that drawing room, it was..."

Harry paused, seemingly reluctant to reveal his relationship with the Dursleys to Professor Blaine, just as the Dursleys had always considered it a disgrace to be related to him.

"--It's a group photo of all the employees of Uncle Vernon's company from many years ago, and the company's owner is also in it."

"And then you discovered that the owner of that drilling company looks almost exactly like me?"

Having eaten until she was about 70-80% full, Amosta elegantly wiped the grease from the corners of her mouth with a napkin and nodded thankfully to Aunt Penny.

“Your cooking is superb, Ms. Penny. I haven’t had such a delicious breakfast in a long time.”

Aunt Penny, despite receiving praise, showed no sign of joy. She pursed her lips and looked down at the plates, though she desperately wanted to kick the man out, even if he might have close ties with the owner of Vernon Corporation. She simply didn't dare utter a word.

"So, how is he doing now, I mean, Kurard Blaine?"

Harry wasn't surprised that Professor Blaine was concerned about the health of his uncle Vernon's business owner. What surprised him was the tone with which Professor Blaine mentioned the name—a casual, indifferent tone, as if discussing a complete stranger with whom he had little connection!

"It's terrible, Professor, it could happen at any moment."

Harry didn't finish his sentence, but he was confident that Professor Blaine would understand.

Looking at Professor Blaine, whose eyes held no depth, Harry hesitated for a moment before asking,

“You know, I mean, you knew about this Mr. Kurard Blaine all along, didn’t you, Professor? Because you don’t seem very surprised?”

Amostah let out a sigh of relief. He leaned back in his chair, looked up at the spotless ceiling, and tapped his fingers on the dining table, producing a dull, oppressive sound.

"Yes I know."

After a moment, Amosta nodded and answered the question, "I have known of Mr. Kurard Blaine's existence for a long time."

"But I heard Hagrid say that you grew up in an orphanage?"

Harry opened his mouth and asked blankly.

“That’s right, Potter.”

Amos Tower looked down at Harry, a deep, enigmatic smile on his face.

“I did grow up in an orphanage, and those two things don’t contradict each other at all, do they?”

Chapter 134 Gloomy

Several days later, Harry stood before the luxurious and magnificent Blaine Manor once again. Last time, he came with the Dursleys, but this time, Professor Blaine was with him.

"professor--"

Ha pointed to the guards in front of the large iron gate, who were eyeing them warily, and whispered, "If we don't have an appointment in advance, I'm afraid they won't let us in."

"Oh, it's alright, Potter, we'll figure something out."

Amos Tower, lost in his memories, was pulled back to reality by Harry's reminder. He started walking back towards the manor, speaking in a nonchalant tone. Harry, following behind him, didn't know what Professor Blaine's method was, but he thought that if it involved magic, it probably wouldn't be appropriate.

"We've come to visit the owner of the manor. Gentlemen, could you please open the door for us?"

Amosta stood before the guards, all dressed in black suits with cold faces, and politely made his request.

Is this Professor Blaine's method? Harry was utterly astonished and inwardly filled with disbelief.

The group of guards was led by a burly Muggle who looked suspiciously at the somewhat familiar young man and the child beside him; he felt they both looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, we were not notified in advance that someone would be visiting Mr. Blaine today. Perhaps your appointment was not successful, or perhaps you remembered the time wrong."

Despite his fierce appearance, the guard was surprisingly polite. Of course, most of the people coming and going here were high-society figures of noble status, so perhaps he just didn't dare to offend them.

"Perhaps Lawrence forgot to tell you—"

Amosta smiled and made up a story, "You can go and confirm with him again. Well, you can say that Ms. Bellina Dett's son wants to visit Mr. Blaine, and I think he will let us in."

The manor guards exchanged bewildered glances. They had all worked there for some time and knew the old butler's meticulous work style. Normally, if these two unsuspecting visitors had indeed made a prior appointment with Mr. Lawrence, he wouldn't have forgotten to give instructions. However, the confident smile radiating from the uniquely charismatic young man in front of them made them hesitant to confirm their suspicions.

"Alright, sir, please wait a moment—"

After hesitating for a moment, the security foreman said this and then personally ran to the manor to ask for instructions.

"See that, Potter—"

While waiting in the shade of a lush, cracked ash tree with grayish-brown bark, Amosta said, “Not everything can be solved with magic.”

Harry subtly rolled his eyes, offering no comment on Professor Blaine's profound remarks, but instead asked in a low voice, "Ms. Bellina Dett, who is she, Professor Blaine?"

“Just like I said, Potter.”

His gaze swept past the towering buildings of the luxurious estate, settling on the pure, pristine clouds high in the sky. Amosta's lips twitched, and he spoke in a slightly less clear voice...

That's my mother—

The manor's actual manager, the loyal old butler who had served two generations of the Blaine family, arrived even faster than expected. Harry was taken aback as he watched the elderly Lawrence rush toward the gate at a speed faster than the young head guard. In their brief last meeting, Harry had come to know the old butler as the kind of person the Dursleys would adore—meticulous, courteous, and seemingly, elegance was ingrained in his very being.

But now, this old butler, whose daily steps were almost identical, was running at full speed. This scene surprised not only Harry, but also Amosta's calm and composed eyes.

Where is that gentleman?

Lawrence, his gray hair sticking to his sweat-drenched cheeks, didn't even give himself a moment to catch his breath. From dozens of feet away, he yelled in a sharp voice at the somewhat bewildered guards.

The instant their eyes met, Lawrence froze. He stared at the expressionless young man in the dappled shadows, his gaze sweeping over his handsome, all-too-familiar features with an almost greedy intensity. Suddenly, his nose, already streaked with age spots, stung with tears.

Yes, it's you.

The old butler approached step by step and spoke softly in a murmured tone.

Harry kept glancing at the old butler, whose eyes were red with excitement, and then at Professor Blaine, who remained perfectly calm. Beatrice's eyes were wide open!

"It's you, absolutely. You're that child, exactly like the master when he was young."

The old butler seemed to have aged ten years in an instant. He went to Amostella, completely ignoring Harry, and shakily reached out his hand, as if wanting to touch Amostella's cheek.

"You look so alike! I've been looking for you for so many years!"

"I hope you don't mind our uninvited visit."

Amosta took a step back, avoiding the old butler's fingertips, and spoke in a completely flat tone.

His overly calm tone was like a bucket of cold water, waking Lawrence up and making him regain some composure.

"You know everything, young master. I mean, what happened back then, your mother told you everything?"

Lawrence, whose gaze never left Amosta's face, wore a bitter expression.

“Young Master? What are you talking about, Lawrence—” Amosta said with a hint of helplessness, “If you’d like, just call me Amosta.”

"Amosta."

Upon hearing this, Lawrence's aged body trembled violently. "That's the name of Ms. Bellina Dett's father."

"Let's use a simpler way to communicate,"