Over the course of several days at school, Richie caught Dumbledore casting thoughtful looks his way more than once. It made him uneasy, stirred his anxiety, and forced him to dwell on the worst possibilities.
Eventually, after returning to the bedroom he shared with his fellow Hufflepuffs, Richard placed the last spare wizardphone upon his sofa. For a long while he simply stared at the artefact as though trying to hypnotise it with his gaze. Then, finally, he made up his mind…
Picking up the enchanted telephone, he headed for the owlery.
The following evening, Richard's wizardphone rang. At the time, the boy was sitting in the Hufflepuff common room. He hurried off to the dormitory, which fortunately stood empty, and only then answered the call.
"Richard speaking."
From the wizardphone's speaker came a familiar husky female voice, rich with sensuality:
"Earl Grosvenor, what a pleasure to hear from you. This is Madam Bagnold. Surely you still remember me?"
"How could anyone forget such a charming lady…"
"Oh my, what am I saying?" the former Minister for Magic purred playfully. "Had you forgotten me, you'd hardly have sent such an amusing artefact."
"Madam Bagnold, though I may still be terribly young, I am perfectly capable of appreciating either a magnificent work of art… or the beauty and charm of a truly enchanting woman such as yourself."
"Oh, Earl," traces of laughter danced through the former minister's voice, "honestly, your flattery is positively shameless. Fortunately for you, I happen to enjoy flattery. Perhaps we ought not dance around the matter?"
"And what of discussions about the lovely weather, mutual compliments and polite bows, cautiously testing the waters?" Richard asked pointedly.
"Earl, let us simply pretend we have already gone through all of that," Madam Bagnold replied. "Or have you genuinely taken a fancy to me?"
"Ah, Madam, I shall confess honestly — I found you impressive not merely as a woman, but as a minister as well."
"And Fudge failed to impress you?" There was utterly undisguised irony in Madam Bagnold's voice.
"We happened to disagree on certain matters."
"And if it is not a secret, precisely which matters?" the witch asked with sincere curiosity.
"Fudge is an idiot. Worse still, he is an initiative and unpredictable idiot. And this… hm… alternatively gifted genius decided to have me arrested for the Dementors' amusement. You spent ten years as Minister for Magic… Tell me, do you think my grandmother would have appreciated something like that?"
Bright peals of feminine laughter burst from the speaker.
"Fudge is not an idiot — he's a complete cretin!" Bagnold declared once she had finished laughing. "That explains quite a great deal. One should never provoke Granny…"
"I certainly wouldn't dare," Richard agreed.
"So then, Earl," Bagnold continued, "since we have agreed to skip the meaningless chatter, perhaps you might indulge me with some interesting gossip?"
"There are rumours that certain individuals wish to place their own man in the Minister's chair," Richard remarked meaningfully.
"Such rumours circulate constantly within wizarding society," the witch replied. "For instance, Barty Crouch enjoys liberal support, Scrimgeour appeals to the far-left, whilst Malfoy is favoured by the far-right."
"As for me, my dearest Madam Bagnold, I find myself interested in you."
"Is that a declaration of love?!" The former minister was openly delighted, positively radiating amusement.
"Naturally," Richard replied with sarcasm. "If my father and Uncle Charlie could come to the telephone right now, they would say they were fond of you as well."
"I see…" Bagnold's tone grew more serious.
As an experienced politician — and an equally experienced woman — she caught every shade of meaning within the conversation, deciphering its double and triple implications with ease. Translated into language understandable to ordinary people, the seemingly light-hearted exchange amounted to something very specific indeed:
I wish to see you as Minister for Magic. The Royal Family supports me and would approve your candidacy.
"Earl, I am but a fragile woman…" A sorrowful, meaningful sigh accompanied Bagnold's words. "It is terribly difficult to survive in this cruel world ruled by men."
"I understand you perfectly, my Lady. I am certain it would be far easier for you to endure the hardships of this brutal patriarchal world if you happened to acquire a secret admirer willing to contribute a million Galleons for brooches."
For several moments, complete silence hung over the line — save for the sound of unsteady breathing. On the other end of the wizardphone, the former minister was utterly stunned. She was accustomed to bribes of a very different scale — vastly smaller ones. It did not immediately occur to her that this was merely "for brooches", meaning campaign financing, until Richie casually added:
"I am quite certain your secret admirer adores strong women — ministers especially. And naturally, he would shower his lady love with trifling sums for costume jewellery. Perhaps a hundred thousand Galleons a year."
"So modest?!" Madam Bagnold protested, recovering remarkably quickly. "I wouldn't even agree to meet such an admirer. Now, if we were speaking of a million…"
"My Lady… my Lady! Heaven preserve you from admirers like that! Where would one even find such a gentleman? My father, perhaps, could qualify — he is a billionaire after all. But wizards and witches do not particularly interest him. As for me, I am merely a humble millionaire. I am certain your devoted admirer is not quite so wealthy, but surely you ought not reject him if he also throws in another hundred thousand for bread and butter."
"Ah, Earl…" the former minister sighed sensually. "If only the admirer were willing to add another three hundred thousand for caviar."
"Too much caviar is bad for one's health — you might grow fat… And besides, did I hear correctly that we were discussing thirty thousand a month, or is your artefact malfunctioning?"
(End of Chapter)
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