July 27, 1991. London.
In a luxurious villa spanning nearly ten thousand square feet in Westminster.
"Third year: beat up every single classmate until they cried."
"Fourth year: buried ten pounds of fireworks in the bathroom, resulting in a sky full of flying debris."
"Fifth year: live-streamed the Headmaster and teachers'... ahem... intimate discussions."
"And the worst of all—during the Sixth-Year graduation ceremony, you gave a hammer-and-sickle speech in front of so many dignitaries."
"If you weren't the last heir of the Lawrence family, you'd probably still be under investigation by MI6 right now."
In the drawing room, a middle-aged man in an immaculate suit recited the glorious exploits of the handsome young boy sitting across from him with a deadpan expression.
By the end, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. He hadn't realised just how shocking the tally was until he listed them out.
And these were just the annual "major incidents"—there were too many minor infractions to bother counting.
'What the hell kind of elementary school did you attend to cause this much trouble?!'
"Wayne Lawrence, I am discussing a very serious matter with you. Please pay attention!"
Noticing the boy's distracted expression, the middle-aged man frowned, raising his voice slightly.
It had been years—ever since he became the Cabinet Minister's secretary—since anyone dared to zone out while he was speaking.
He, Humphrey Appleby, Chief Secretary of the Home Office, was hailed as the model civil servant of the British Empire, with a future brighter than the sun.
And yet, here he was, agonising over his nephew's schooling.
The handsome boy sitting across from him was his nephew, Wayne Lawrence.
The heir to the current Earl of Lawrence.
The Lawrence family had always been a single-line inheritance, and in Wayne's parents' generation, an accident shortly after his birth left him as the sole surviving descendant.
To ensure his sister's bloodline didn't die out, Humphrey had doted on this nephew more than he had on his own son over the years.
"Oh, sorry, Uncle Humphrey. I was just thinking about something. Please continue."
Wayne offered an apologetic smile, his flawlessly handsome features conveying an air of refined politeness, which was entirely at odds with the misdeeds just described.
The middle-aged man's expression softened slightly before he continued: "Wayne, I already spoke with Danvers from Harrow School yesterday. With your grades, getting in won't be a problem at all. Just... please restrain your excessive curiosity and boundless energy."
"Otherwise, poor evaluations in the school records could cause significant difficulties for your future admission to Oxford or Balliol College."
Harrow School, England's most prestigious and historically significant public school, counts among its famous alumni the British Prime Minister during World War II.
"Wayne, what's that look in your eyes?"
"Uh, Uncle, I don't recall saying I wanted to attend Harrow?" Wayne spread his hands in a helpless gesture.
"Then where do you want to go? Eton College? No, they're just riding on reputation these days—standards have been slipping year after year. Anyone with money can get in now.
"Westminster School? That won't do either. The school has a strong arts focus, but that won't help much for your future political career."
Humphrey meticulously analysed several nearby elite schools; the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Harrow was the best choice.
But Wayne seemed not to hear him, casually pulling out an envelope from behind him.
On it was a wax seal featuring a shield crest, with a capital letter H surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.
"Sorry, Uncle, I won't be attending any of those schools." Wayne flashed a perfectly polite smile. "I'm done being a Muggle!"
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Furthermore, considering your family circumstances, we will send a professor to your home tomorrow at 9 a.m. to answer any questions and provide guidance.
"Hogwarts..."
After reading the letter, Humphrey examined the wax seal emblem. As a senior official in the British civil service hierarchy, there were few secrets in England unknown to him.
He was aware of those exceptionally gifted individuals.
His department even had some connections with the Ministry of Magic, which governed those peculiar people, having collaborated on occasion.
The only thing that surprised him was that his nephew possessed such qualifications.
"You want to go to Hogwarts?"
"Of course." Wayne nodded lightly. "How could I resist such an interesting place?"
Then he complained, "I've already spent six years in an all-boys primary school. If I had to spend seven more years at Harrow or Eton..."
Wayne couldn't help but shudder.
'No wonder Britain has its unique national conditions—after over a decade in all-boys schools, even straight men might turn gay.'
Humphrey fell into thoughtful silence."If this is your choice... I respect it, Wayne. If I had the chance to learn extraordinary abilities, I wouldn't refuse either.
"However, to ensure this isn't some scam, I'll come by tomorrow to meet the professor with you."
"Of course." Wayne didn't object.
After setting the time, Humphrey declined Wayne's dinner invitation and hurried back to Downing Street.
Wayne understood perfectly well. His Uncle Humphrey not only had to handle a massive amount of official duties every day but was also constantly locked in battles of wits with the Home Secretary, Jim Hacker.
Although the minister hadn't received systematic politician training and appeared rather comical at times, the killer instincts he occasionally displayed were enough to give Humphrey headaches.
After instructing the household servants to prepare a feast for celebration, Wayne first returned to his bedroom.
He silently thought to himself: 'System, bro, let's make a deal—how about returning the points I spent the other day?'
'At most, I'll return those rewards to you, too.'