"No, no, Earl," the thoroughly satisfied former minister decided not to push her luck further, "your artefact works splendidly. I have always dreamed of an admirer who would gift me thirty thousand Galleons a month for jewellery. Oh! I daresay I might even overlook all his flaws and support him in all his endeavours."
"What self-sacrifice!" Richard exclaimed with feigned admiration. "My Lady, you have my deepest respect. It has been an absolute pleasure speaking with you."
"Earl…" Her husky, sensual voice seemed to seep straight into Richard's bones. "And how delightful it was to hear your voice… words cannot express it… Do be certain to pass along my regards to your father and godfather."
"Without fail, my Lady. Best of luck in your endeavours."
"And to you, Earl."
After ending the wireless connection, Richie thought to himself:
I should have agreed to accept funding from Father. The Galleons in the Gringotts vault are vanishing far too quickly — as though I were Kai from The Snow Queen, and the coins were made of ice while a blazing summer raged outside. There goes another million chips, and 1992 has only just begun.
***
Two weeks passed. Mid-January proved exceptionally snowy. Dumbledore took no action against Richard. Harry Potter, meanwhile, remained just as furious with the Headmaster and continued nursing elaborate plans for revenge.
Richard, on the other hand, was actively preparing to save the world — and his own backside. And if that failed, then at the very least he intended to save part of humanity along with the people close to him. The first item in that plan was the construction of a spaceship. The second involved depriving the potential villain — or villains — among wizardkind of a possible source of long life and healing: namely, stealing the Philosopher's Stone.
The first signs of progress had already appeared. At Grosvenor Workshop, development of an artificial intelligence based upon the methods used to create living portraits and the Sorting Hat was advancing at full speed. The project naturally required consultations with specialist scientists and engineers regarding the development of the AI itself, as well as the integration of information storage and transmission technologies with magical chips.
Politics, too, had begun moving in a favourable direction. Firstly, Arthur Weasley and Britain's representative had succeeded in buying up the majority of votes within the International Confederation of Wizards. An exact date had been set for an extraordinary session of the Confederation. Secondly, Madam Bagnold — now in possession of a document allowing her to withdraw a million Galleons from the Grosvenor vault — had launched herself into active political manoeuvring: bribing Ministry officials and members of the press, blackmail, and other delightfully entertaining activities traditionally preceding any election. During another conversation over the wizardphone, the former minister assured Richard that with such serious funding, she would most certainly reclaim the position of Minister despite all the schemes of her rivals.
Richie decided to dedicate that particular day to preparing the operation to retrieve the Philosopher's Stone. To begin with, he tracked down Hermione Granger and secluded himself with her in one of the abandoned classrooms that lacked any living portraits.
"Richie," Granger said, glancing around the dusty room, "you wanted to speak with me?"
"Hermione, I have an important task for you. You'll help me, won't you?"
"Of course!" Granger replied with eager interest. "What do you need me to do?"
"I want to know what the Philosopher's Stone looks like," Richard answered. "Hermione, please find that information for me. And I'm asking you very seriously to keep my interest in the matter secret. Can you do that over the next two or three months?"
"I…" Granger paused thoughtfully. "Yes, I can. I'll turn the entire library upside down if I must, but I'll find it."
"Thank you so much! Hermione, I'll be extremely grateful. To make the search easier, I'll give you a starting point — the creator of the last known Philosopher's Stone was the alchemist Nicolas Flamel. He's somewhere around six hundred years old."
"He's still alive?" Hermione asked in astonishment.
"Yes," Richard replied with a nod. "That's the whole point of the stone — it prolongs a person's life."
"Richie, why do you even need that?" Granger asked curiously. "Wouldn't it be better to find the recipe for creating the Philosopher's Stone instead?"
Richard laughed. Once he had calmed down, he replied:
"Hermione, if it were that simple… Do you honestly think wizards would live only slightly longer than ordinary people if the recipe for the Great Work were freely available? Since you don't see the Elixir of Life sold in magical apothecaries, that means the recipe for creating the Philosopher's Stone is hardly public knowledge."
"I'm still going to look for it," Hermione declared stubbornly.
"Go ahead. If you actually manage to find it, that would be wonderful."
"I think I'll head to the library right now," Hermione said, suddenly fired up by the idea.
"Commendable enthusiasm."
"Richie, are you coming with me?" Hermione asked.
"No, sorry. I would gladly accompany such a lovely young lady as yourself, but unfortunately I have an entire mountain of work to deal with. Business…" Richard sighed theatrically. "Just because I'm away at school doesn't mean it has vanished."
"All right, sorry. It must be difficult running a business at your age?"
"It isn't easy, Hermione. Not easy at all. But what choice do I have? I'm a Grosvenor, and that means I must be the best."
After Hermione departed for the library, Richard contacted Fred Weasley and arranged a meeting. Fred invited the young Lord to his secret underground laboratory, where Richard immediately headed.
(End of Chapter)
Before you vanish off to your respective common rooms, a brief reminder that your support is most welcome. Power stones, reviews, and comments would be greatly appreciated.
Consider it a small bit of magic to keep the story going.
🎁 Bonus chapter at 50 power stones!