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0750 Lawrence's Request
🕑 Added 2025-06-18 11:27:58 +0000 UTC"You're absolutely right—"
Lawrence's voice was sounding like a gruff whisper. Tiny beads of sweat had begun to form along his graying temples, his cheeks, which had been pale now flushed with the ruddy color of someone just recovering from an illness.
In fact, that was exactly the case.
But Lawrence's eyes brightened, and having undergone this mental transformation, the aura of decay and despair that had surrounded him vanished. Despite his old age, he now radiated a vitality that was almost youthful.
"You're absolutely right, Bryan—"
Lawrence repeated the words with growing conviction. His gaze focused upon Bryan, as if he were looking upon a precious treasure.
"What matters—what truly matters—is people!"
Bryan smiled with satisfaction and breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up from the bedside table.
"I'm glad you've come to understand this, Lawrence. Now then," Bryan looked at the old butler with gentle eyes, "Rest well. I must leave, but if you'd like to chat with me again in the future, you can find me at Hurst Orphanage during Christmas holidays—I'm usually there during Christmas break."
A flash of excitement glowed in Lawrence's gray eyes. Though the arrangement would only provide them with contact during those holiday days each year, Master Watson had given him permission to visit the orphanage to find him. This alone was wonderful.
But even in his excitement, Lawrence's expression suddenly shifted to one of alarm. His eyes widened with surprise and concern as he processed what had just been said.
"You're leaving!" Lawrence exclaimed, his voice rising with shock as he looked toward the window in surprise and growing panic.
Ever since the passing of the old Master Watson and the subsequent liquidation of the family assets which were sold off and donated, all the courtyard streetlights and outside lighting systems had been shut off promptly after midnight as a cost-saving measure.
Now the outside world was shrouded in deep night, with only the weak lights arranged along both sides of the manor's main pathways providing little lighting.
"Stay the night, Bryan. Leave tomorrow," Lawrence said, his voice taking on an earnest, pleading tone. Without hesitation, he rolled himself out of his sickbed with surprising agility for a man of his age and condition.
Moving with desperate urgency, Lawrence reached out and grasped Bryan's wrist with both of his hands.
Seeing Lawrence's pleading gaze, Bryan paused to consider the request more carefully.
Bryan's mind quickly judged the situation at St. Mungo's, where he knew Dumbledore was probably in negotiations with Mrs. Longbottom regarding the matter they had discussed.
The outcome of those negotiations was out of his hands—if Mrs. Longbottom refused their request, it wouldn't particularly concern him. If she agreed to their proposal, Dumbledore would still need considerable time to collect and organize the memories related to Frank and Alice Longbottom. In either case, there was no urgent need for his immediate involvement or presence.
"Very well—"
Under Lawrence's eager and almost desperate anticipation, Bryan nodded in agreement.
The truth was that today's intensive work of memory implantation and personality reconstruction on the Muggle had been no light task. The effort had brought Bryan a level of fatigue that was comparable to fighting an intense magical battle, leaving him drained in both physical and psychological ways. He did indeed need proper rest and recovery time.
"I'll prepare a room for you!" Lawrence said wild with joy, his voice resounding with excitement and satisfaction.
Moving with remarkable nimbleness for someone who had been in his sickbed just minutes before, Lawrence quickly took his clothing from the coat rack. His sudden burst of energy was so surprising and strong that even Bryan forgot to restrain him for a moment.
"I'm not particular about where I sleep, Lawrence. Any room will do," Bryan watching Lawrence dash out the door, called after him with slight helplessness in his voice, though there was warmth flickering in his eyes.
Half an hour later, Lawrence still gleefully led Bryan to the manor's most luxurious bedroom. Without even hiding his eagerness, he practically pushed Bryan into the room, then immediately closed the door and left, as if he was afraid Bryan might refuse.
'Oh, right!'
The thought struck Lawrence as he made his way down the corridor, his footsteps slowing as he remembered the important matter he had intended to discuss with Bryan.
Turning back toward the bedroom, Lawrence could see that the door was already firmly closed with no signs of reopening. Lawrence stood there for several moments in hesitancy.
After several seconds of internal deliberation, Lawrence reluctantly decided not to return and knock on the door.
Truthfully, Bryan didn't sleep very soundly that night. He had grown accustomed to his camp bed at Hogwarts, and suddenly switching to a luxurious, soft large bed left him rather uncomfortable. Moreover, being watched by the row of photographs on the bookshelf in the adjoining study with faces bearing eight or nine parts resemblance to his own, ranging from young to old—felt somewhat awkward.
So, when the next day arrived and the first rays of dawn began to creep through the gaps in the curtains, Bryan was already sitting up in bed, preparing to pack up and take his leave.
But as Bryan prepared to rise, his gaze fell upon the bedroom door, and his expression immediately shifted to one of resigned helplessness. Even before he had fully awakened, he sensed that his plans for an early, inconspicuous departure were about to be thwarted by Lawrence.
As he opened the door, a man was already waiting respectfully outside.
"I am Hank, Mr. Watson!" The man bowed and said, "Lawrence instructed me to ask whether you would prefer to dine in the study or go to the dining room?"
"The dining room, please," Bryan said.
Following Hank through the maze-like villa for five minutes, he finally reached a small hall on the top floor with floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides, facing the rising morning sun. From the decorative style, this small hall appeared to be the manor owner's private breakfast room— a place reserved for family use and not typically opened to outsiders or casual guests.
The table, covered with a velvet tablecloth and decorated with fresh flower arrangements and exquisite tableware, was already set with refreshments.
In the kitchen just a wall away, Lawrence was still leading the manor's remaining two chefs in busy preparation. Lawrence seemed to know that Bryan couldn't possibly stay here long, so he had sent people to purchase fresh ingredients before dawn, intending to let Bryan enjoy a sumptuous breakfast.
This was the old butler's heartfelt wish, and Bryan didn't refuse. He simply stood behind the glass wall, quietly admiring the morning scenery.
When Lawrence entered the small dining room pushing a serving cart, seeing Bryan standing there with his hands behind his back, his expression became momentarily dazed and his eyes reddened.
"You look much better, Lawrence," Bryan observed, turning around to face the butler with a warm smile.
"This is the good fortune you've brought me," Lawrence replied, his voice dense with deep emotion and gratitude.
At Bryan's gentle insistence, Lawrence joined him at the table to share the breakfast feast. But what struck Bryan as particularly odd was Lawrence's insistence on maintaining privacy during their meal. When Bryan suggested that Hank and the kitchen staff should join them for breakfast, Lawrence firmly but politely insisted that they leave the dining room and return to their regular duties.
Moreover, throughout their casual breakfast conversation, Lawrence had an expression of someone who wanted to speak about something important but was held back by uncertainty, fear, or perhaps a lack of confidence about how to start a delicate subject.
"I plan to renovate the manor, Bryan—convert it into a welfare school. What do you think—"
As soon as he heard Lawrence's proposal, the fog of confusion that had been clouding Bryan's mind suddenly cleared, and he understood the source of Lawrence's nervous anxiety throughout their meal.
"I have no objections, Lawrence. You may proceed according to your own wishes," Bryan replied gently. After a moment's thoughtful consideration, he added a reminder:
"This matter will likely encounter certain obstacles that you should be prepared to resolve. I know the nearby residents are all distinguished dignitaries and wealthy families who may not agree to your converting Watson Manor into a school.
The presence of students and the increased activity that would come with an educational institution might be seen as disruptive to the quiet, exclusive character of the neighborhood. Moreover, the construction project will probably require substantial funding that may exceed your current resources."
Bryan wasn't trying to discourage Lawrence, but rather ensuring that the old butler understood the challenges he would face.
"The villa still contains some valuable antiques and furnishings that have been maintained in excellent condition," Lawrence replied, his voice gaining confidence as he outlined the solutions he had already been considering. "If these items were auctioned, they should provide more than adequate funding to cover the renovation costs and initial operating expenses."
He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing with his plan.
"As for the neighboring residents—you're absolutely right that we may indeed face their opposition. However, I've already begun developing proper solutions to ensure their lives aren't disturbed by our activities."
Lawrence's response revealed that he had been giving this matter serious thought for some time. His only real concern had been securing Master Watson's approval. Hearing that Bryan didn't object to the plan, Lawrence felt a tremendous sense of relief and liberation, but even now, uncertainty continued to show in his face.
Converting the manor into a functional school wouldn't be simple—it would require architectural modifications, legal permits, educational licensing, staff recruitment, and a hundred other details that would need careful coordination.
But Bryan had no intention of becoming personally involved in the project's implementation. Since Lawrence had spoken with such apparent confidence, Bryan assumed the he had reasonable grounds for his optimism and the experience necessary to see such a complex project through to completion.
"Bryan."
After hesitating for a long while, during which Lawrence appeared to be wrestling with some internal struggle, he finally set down his utensils with and rose from his seat at the breakfast table.
Moving with quick, nervous steps, Lawrence walked to the dining room door and paused there for few seconds. He glanced left and right along the corridor outside. His ears were straining to detect any sound that might indicate the presence of eavesdroppers
Satisfied that they were truly alone and that no one was lurking near, Lawrence came back into the dining room and firmly closed the door behind him.
Bryan observed this display of caution with growing interest, saying nothing but raising his eyebrows in a gesture that clearly conveyed his curiosity about what could possibly require such extreme measures of privacy and security.
Returning to the table with steps that seemed heavier than before, Lawrence took several deep, steadying breaths. His eyes were flashing with alarm and traces of fear.
'Interesting—' Bryan thought, his mind immediately focusing on this unexpected development. 'What exactly had happened to make Lawrence so frightened and secretive?'
He realized that Lawrence's reason behind arranging this meeting, probably wasn't solely about wanting him to accept the manor as the Watson family heir.
"Do you remember the little boy who came with you the last time you visited the manor?" Lawrence began speaking as he seemed to summon every ounce of courage he possessed. His eyes remained fixed intently on Bryan's face while lowering his voice.
"The one with—oh, I seem to recall he had a scar on his forehead, quite unusual in its shape. He was Vernon Dursley's nephew."
Click—
Bryan set down his silver fork, leaned back in his chair, and interlaced his fingers with an intrigued smile.
"Harry Potter?" Bryan said, his voice carrying a tone of mild curiosity mixed with something that might have been amusement.
"Oh yes, that's the name. You mentioned at the time that you had taught him some self-defense skills. This child—" Lawrence held his breath, his expression solemn. "Are you still in contact with him? Has this boy... encountered some kind of trouble?"
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