The Mastermind: Hassen

Hassen Morti saw Brook seated, then snapped his fingers with elegance.

The carriage began to move slowly.

Not a single tremor stirred during the ride, as smooth as gliding through the air.

The path remained a straight line throughout.

Whether past houses or mountains.

It was as if an invisible hole opened right through them, passing straight on.

Like traveling through another space.

As time passed, the carriage came to a gentle halt.

The moment Brook stepped down, he saw.

Millicent Bones, with jet-black hair and a tall, sturdy build.

Pushing a wheelchair where Hassen Bones sat, silver-haired, aged but sharp-eyed.

Oliver stood upright to one side.

The instant Millicent saw Brook, jealousy and venom blazed in her eyes, nearly spilling out.

This carriage Brook rode in was exclusive to the Bones family head and heir.

When Hassen decided to use it to fetch Brook, it meant her heir privileges were stripped away.

The family fortune, once so close it seemed within reach, now vanished like a bubble.

How could she not burn with envy?

Yet she dared not show a hint of it before Hassen.

What Millicent didn't know was.

Even if Brook hadn't appeared, the family estate might not have fallen into her hands anyway.

The moment her parents died, Hassen had begun reactivating his own body.

These years, he'd been quietly working at it, just without much result.

Last year, he'd already started reaching out to the Weasley family.

He wanted a woman from the Weasley line to somehow preserve the Bones family blood.

Hassen glanced sidelong at Morti, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

He smiled and said, "Welcome home, Brook."

Brook replied politely, "Mr. Bones, I'm glad to be here."

Hassen's expression didn't change; he kept a warm smile. "You must be hungry. Let's eat first."

"Of course, guest follows host."

Hassen raised his hand, and Millicent immediately pushed him forward.

"Slow down," Hassen said softly.

But Millicent flinched, her pace instantly slowing to match Brook's.

Brook took it all in.

Looks like Mr. Weasley's intel wasn't entirely accurate!

The letter had described Hassen as a kind man.

But from Millicent's reaction just now, this Mr. Hassen seemed far from simple on the surface.

Seeing no other moves from them, Brook began to take in the estate.

The manor's gate was made of thick oak.

A wide gravel path wound forward.

On both sides, neatly trimmed hedges lined the way.

The main building was a Gothic castle, its towering spires piercing the clouds.

Vines crawled up the walls.

The sharp thorns on those vines glinted coldly in the sunlight, clearly not just decoration.

Inside the castle, it was sheer luxury.

Everything Brook saw as he walked was either gold or silver.

Even the frames of the portrait paintings on the walls were pure gold.

Not to mention the crystal chandelier, nearly ten meters in diameter.

Morti was already waiting in the dining room.

A long table sat there, enough for thirty people, laden with a lavish spread.

Brook glanced over and noticed it was all French cuisine—no potato dishes in sight.

Beef Bourguignon, Duck Confit, Foie Gras, French Steak, Pan-Seared Duck Breast, Lobster Thermidor, Ratatouille, French Seafood Platter, and Bouillabaisse.

The group sat down one by one, with Hassen specifically inviting Brook to sit on his left.

Brook didn't refuse.

He lightly touched the plate with his hand.

Pure gold.

Not like the golden plates at Hogwarts.

Hassen and Millison both strictly adhered to dining etiquette, every movement elegant and proper.

Oliver, on the other hand, moved stiffly, using the various utensils in a rigid, by-the-book manner, carefully picking up and cutting different foods.

"Mr. Bones, do you have chopsticks?" Brook asked.

"Morti," Hassen called simply.

Morti immediately took a pair of pristine white chopsticks with blue gems set into the tips, along with a chopstick rest, from a nearby cabinet.

He swiftly placed them beside Brook's plate.

Brook picked up the chopsticks and gently felt them.

The material had a strange texture—neither wood nor ceramic.

Millison caught sight of this, a flicker of disdain in her eyes. "Ivory chopsticks from the Mughal Dynasty, over four hundred years old..."

Hassen gave a light cough, and Millison immediately shut her mouth.

Brook didn't mind. He just started digging in.

Eating was eating—enjoying the food was what mattered.

Who was there to show off for?

As a proper French meal, desserts and ice cream were naturally not to be missed.

Macarons, Éclairs, Mont Blanc, Soufflé, and various flavors of ice cream.

Were all set on the table by Morti.

Brook wasn't particularly interested in post-meal sweets.

Far better to just have a cup of tea and relax.

So he didn't touch them.

"Already finished? Not having any dessert?" Hassen asked with a smile.

"The dishes were excellent. I'm full—can't fit any more," Brook replied politely.

Hassen nodded slightly and gestured toward Morti with his hand.

"Then how about accompanying this old man to the study for a chat?"

"Sure."

Hassen skillfully turned his wheelchair himself and slowly left the table.

Brook followed.

Morti snapped his fingers.

The dishes on the table vanished instantly.

Leaving only Millison's hand, which had just touched the Soufflé, frozen awkwardly in midair.

Hassen led Brook to the study.

A thick, aged scent of books wafted over them.

Massive bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with all kinds of books.

The two sat across from each other at an antique table.

Hassen personally picked up the tea set nearby and began brewing tea.

Soon, he handed a cup to Brook.

"What do you think of this estate?"

"Luxurious."

"A fair assessment. The Bones family has always had a natural fondness for gold. This is the accumulation of dozens of generations."

Hassen narrowed his eyes slightly. "And you like gold too, don't you?"

"I don't think there's anyone in this world who doesn't like gold," Brook replied.

"I mean the gold you took from Lloyds Bank."

"It was you." Brook's heart jolted sharply.

Could it be...

He furrowed his brow slightly.

But why?

"Figured it out? That's right, the Bones family holds shares in Lloyds Bank, and I was the one who sent for Dumbledore. I also told him your location—otherwise, even if he could track you down, he wouldn't have found you this fast."

Hassen leaned back in his wheelchair, his face calm. "So? Do you hate me?"

(Many readers had questions about Dumbledore's appearance in Chapter Two—does this answer satisfy you? (ღˇ◡ˇღ))

If you can't find the book by its title, try searching by the author—it might just have been renamed!