July 27th, 1991.
London.
In the Westminster district, within a luxurious villa spanning nearly ten thousand square feet—
"Third year: made the entire class cry."
"Fourth year: planted ten kilos of fireworks in the restroom and blew them sky-high."
"Fifth year: live-streamed the headmaster's... 'in-depth conversation' with a teacher."
"And the most outrageous one—during your sixth-year graduation ceremony, you gave a speech about hammers and sickles in front of all those high-ranking officials."
"If you weren't the last direct heir of the Lawrence family, you'd still be under investigation by MI6."
In the drawing room,
a middle-aged man in a suit, sharply dressed and stern-faced, listed the accomplishments of the handsome young man sitting across from him, without a trace of expression.
By the end, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but twitch.
He hadn't realized just how much had happened until he started listing them all.
And that was just the yearly "major incidents." The smaller infractions? He'd long since stopped counting.
This was a bloody primary school—how had it produced this much chaos?
"Wayne Lawrence, I'm discussing something very serious with you. Please pay attention!"
Noticing the boy zoning out, the man furrowed his brows, raising his voice slightly.
How many years had it been since anyone had dared lose focus when he spoke?
Ever since becoming the Cabinet Minister's private secretary, such things simply didn't happen.
He was Humphrey Appleby, Chief Secretary of the Home Office, hailed as the model civil servant of the British Empire, with a future bright as day.
And now, he had a massive headache—caused by his nephew's education.
Sitting across from him was that handsome teenager—his nephew:
Wayne Lawrence,
heir to the Lawrence earldom.
The Lawrence family had always passed down titles through a single line.
But Wayne's parents had died in an accident shortly after he was born, making him the sole remaining bloodline of the Lawrence name.
In order to preserve his sister's legacy, Humphrey had poured more heart and soul into raising this nephew than he would have into his own son.
"Oh, sorry, Uncle Humphrey. I was just thinking about something."
"Please, go on."
Wayne gave an apologetic smile. Paired with his flawlessly handsome face, it gave him a refined and courteous air—making it nearly impossible to believe he was the one behind those scandals just mentioned.
Humphrey's expression softened slightly as he continued:
"Wayne, I spoke with Danvers from Harrow School yesterday. With your grades, getting in won't be a problem at all. Just… please, try to rein in your boundless curiosity and excess energy."
"Otherwise, if your conduct marks are poor, it'll really affect your future applications to Oxford or Balliol College…"
Harrow School—one of the most prestigious and historic public schools in England. Its most famous alumnus was none other than the wartime Prime Minister.
"Wayne, what's with that look in your eyes?"
"Uh… Uncle, did I ever say I was going to Harrow?"
Wayne shrugged, palms open.
"Then where do you want to go? Eton? No—overrated. It's all about reputation these days; as long as you have money, you're in."
"Westminster School? Out of the question. Sure, it has a strong artistic atmosphere, but it won't help your political future—"
It wouldn't help much."
Humphrey continued analyzing the top schools in the area with full sincerity. The more he spoke, the more convinced he became that Harrow was the ideal choice.
But Wayne seemed to be ignoring him entirely, casually pulling out an envelope from behind him.
It was sealed with wax.
On the seal was a crest—
a capital letter H surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a serpent.
"Sorry, Uncle, but I'm not going to any of those schools."
Wayne gave a perfectly polite smile.
"I'm done being a Muggle!"
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
A list of necessary books and equipment is enclosed.
Additionally, due to your family circumstances, a professor will arrive at your home at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow to answer any questions and provide guidance.
"Hogwarts…"
After reading the letter, Humphrey looked again at the wax seal.
As one of the highest-ranking officials in the British civil service, there were few secrets left in England for Humphrey Appleby.
He was well aware of those gifted individuals.
In fact, the department that managed those... peculiar people—the Ministry of Magic—had occasionally collaborated with them in the past.
The only thing that surprised him now was that his own nephew turned out to have that kind of potential.
"You want to go to Hogwarts?"
"Of course." Wayne nodded lightly.
"A place that interesting? Of course I want to see it for myself."
Then he added with a grimace,
"I've already spent six years in an all-boys school. If I went to Harrow or Eton for seven more…"
Wayne couldn't help but shudder.
No wonder Britain had such a unique national temperament.
After over a decade in all-boys schools, even those who weren't bent to begin with might end up that way.
Humphrey fell silent in thought.
"If that's your choice… I respect it, Wayne.
If I had a chance to gain extraordinary power, I wouldn't turn it down either."
"Still, just to make sure this isn't a scam, I'll come by tomorrow to meet the professor with you."
"Of course," Wayne agreed without hesitation.
After agreeing on the time, Humphrey declined Wayne's invitation to stay for dinner and rushed back to Downing Street.
Wayne understood.
His Uncle Humphrey not only had a mountain of official duties to handle daily, but also had to engage in constant battles of wit with the Home Secretary, Jim Hacker.
Though that minister lacked formal political training and often came across as a bit of a clown,
the sharp instincts he occasionally displayed were enough to give Humphrey endless headaches.
Wayne instructed the household staff to prepare a feast in celebration, then returned to his bedroom.
Silently, he muttered in his mind:
"Hey, System bro… how about we talk this out? Could you maybe refund those points I spent the other day?"
"I'll even return the rewards if you want."