Hogwarts Homecoming

Lawrence gently closed the door, and in the cold room where only the Muggle machine was making the ticking sound, only Amosta and the sleeping man were left on the hospital bed.

When the shriveled body of this man whose life had come to an end came into view, Amosta's body trembled uncontrollably, and his originally indifferent expression became unspeakably complicated, as if a stone was pressing on his heart Like heavy.

He walked slowly to the window, opened the curtains and pushed open the closed sash, letting the cool breeze take away the unpleasant potion and rotten smell in the room, afterward, Amosta, who was leaning against the window, drew out a Putting a cigarette under his nose and sniffing, his calm gaze fell on the thin triangular cheeks of the man on the hospital bed.

"sad--"

After a long time, Amosta sighed again with unknown meaning.

Perhaps it was the cold wind that broke into the ward that made the man on the bed feel uncomfortable. Amidst a burst of indistinct ravings and groans, the man opened his eyes with difficulty.

He stared blankly at the white ceiling, and it took about five minutes before the cloudy eyeballs revealed a little sobriety.

Soon, the dying man realized that there was someone in the room. He looked towards the window, but the glare made his eyes blurred. He was very confused why someone dared to open the window of the room, so he blinked desperately to see Who is the person in front of the clear window.

The cool wind made his stiff consciousness smoother and smoother, and the blurred light and shadow gradually receded, and as the man's face gradually became clearer, the mouth of the man lying on the hospital bed opened wider and wider. The cloudy eyeballs were also swollen to the point of popping out of their sockets.

The silence continued, he was looking at him, and he was also looking at him, without a word of self-introduction, but both of them knew very well who the other was.

"Could you get me a cigar? Since I was diagnosed, Lawrence no longer allows me to smoke one, hehe, I don't think it matters now—"

Amosta threw away the cigarette in his hand, and said lightly,

"No cigars, let's make do with this—"

The man picked up the slightly deformed cigarette, curled his lips unwillingly, but in the end, instead of insisting on his request, he put the cigarette in his mouth tremblingly, and muttered,

"fire--"

Slap!

After a crisp finger snap, the cigarette butt flickered, and wisps of green smoke came out.

The man took a deep puff of the cigarette and showed an expression of enjoyment. With the help of nicotine, his grayish brown pupils were full of energy, and even his haggard body regained some strength. , changed to a more comfortable position and leaned against the head of the bed.

"What was that just now, a trick?"

"Take it as a trick--" Amostar said lazily.

For a person who may die in the next second, there is nothing novel in this world, the man nodded and did not continue to ask.

"So to say--"

The choking smoke put pressure on the man's internal organs that were already on the verge of collapse. He coughed twice, and then wiped the blood from the corners of his mouth as if nothing had happened. After panting for a while, he said with difficulty,

"It was Lawrence who found you, didn't he? I know he has been looking for you behind my back, especially in the two or three years since I was diagnosed. He has spent a lot of energy doing this."

Amostar took out another cigarette, and suddenly felt a strong urge to light it, but in the end, he overcame the desire and just played with it in his hand.

"If I were you--"

Amosta showed a disinterested expression, "I won't waste the few remaining days of my life on such boring questions."

The man nodded approvingly, and then fell silent. The cigarette in his hand was burning rapidly, and the burnt ashes fell down, burning black and ugly spots on the snow-white quilt.

"What kind of life are you living now?"

This time, the silent person was replaced by Amosta. He rubbed the center of his brows, and his gaze, which was never easily shaken, was darting around the room at this moment.

"How should I answer your question?" Amosta sighed, "A free life, a life full of hope, is not bad anyway."

"Really." The man whispered, "That's good—"

Both of them seemed to have lost the desire to speak. The man on the hospital bed cherished the last cigarette in his life. He stared blankly at the slow but firm flame that devoured the cigarette, and the past events flashed in his mind. Flicking, and finally, fixed on a blurred face, he wanted to see through the fog on that face, but no matter how hard he tried, the fog still did not dissipate, so he could only laugh at himself,

"I can't even remember what that woman looked like"

"It's not difficult to understand." Amosta said calmly, "After all, many years have passed, and I can't remember clearly--"

There was a message in his words, and the man who accurately captured the message on the hospital bed was stunned, and then asked, "So, she...I mean, your mother, already."

"You guessed it right," Amosta nodded, "has been gone for many years—"

Perhaps because of the perennial habit of spontaneously operating Occlumency when the mood is turbulent, Amosta's tone of voice has always maintained an incomprehensible calmness. His calmness makes the man feel a little dazzling and a little angry, but carefully After thinking about it, he knew that he had no right to say anything.

"So--"

Seeing that the man seemed to have nothing to say, Amosta stood up straight from his reclining position, and he nodded at the man,

"Have a good rest, Mr. Blaine, I'm leaving now."

The words "Mr. Blaine" that Amosta uttered burned the man's self-esteem like fire, his breathing became rapid, and an inexplicable strength suddenly surged from his body like a candle in the wind,

"do you hate me?"

Amosta stopped at the bedside of the hospital bed. He stared sideways at the man's eyes for a long time before saying unhurriedly,

"There is nothing to complain about, Mr. Blaine, after all, you are just an innocent victim."

The man slumped back on the bed, his expression became slumped, the strength that surged in his body just now was quickly stripped away, he seemed to have heard the footsteps of the god of death gradually becoming clearer.

"Could you trouble me to call Lawrence for me?" The man stopped Amosta who walked to the door, "I have something to explain."

ps: Updates will be released at night in the future.

First make up for the first leader of the book (I don’t see the moonlight staining the sky), and I will do the rest as soon as possible.