Richie brought up the map menu and updated it with data from Hermione's wrist AI. Sure enough, he found a secret passage on the second floor, in the vicinity of the girls' lavatory. However, the map showed only a tunnel extending ten metres into the depths.
The magical scanner was good, but it was far from perfect. In open spaces and the castle corridors, it performed its job admirably. Stone walls and earth, however, made scanning difficult.
"Not bad. Congratulations, Hermione. I hadn't paid any attention to it."
"Neither had I. Richie, so it's on your map too?"
"Yes. The scanner picked up a short stretch of tunnel."
"Same on mine," Hermione said. "I think the passage goes much farther. Most likely beyond the castle. We need to investigate it."
"Hermione, I can't say I'm particularly eager to do anything like that."
"But Richie, it's a secret passage!" Hermione's eyes shone with anticipation; she was itching for a break from the routine and a dose of adrenaline.
"Hermione, the entrance is almost certainly password-protected." Richard shook his head. "All the passages are password-protected. We'd spend years brute-forcing the correct activation phrase."
"What if we used an AI, like a living portrait?" Granger suggested.
"Not a bad idea," Richard mused, considering the possibilities. "Another secret passage certainly wouldn't hurt. If only we had a drone for exploring it… But we don't have one yet. Compact reconnaissance drones are still under development."
That brought the discussion of the secret passage to an end, and they returned to preparing for their exams. It seemed Hermione had lost interest in the passage, while Richard couldn't have cared less about it.
A couple of days later, Richard had his first erotic dream in this life. It was nonsensical and illogical, which was perfectly normal.
In the dream, Richie found himself on a recently discovered colony planet, in a typical colonial settlement: two-storey stone blocks of flats, rather like long barracks with grey walls, stone roads, and cheap solar panels everywhere in the form of black cellular film stretched across every available surface, including the roofs.
And there, in that grey-and-black settlement surrounded by rampant vegetation with purple and blue leaves, Richie was helping an unfamiliar female colonist carry her belongings into a new flat. For some reason, the girl looked like a grown-up Hermione. Almost immediately, things became more interesting—a bedroom scene began. Teenagers usually woke up at that point, but Richie's dream continued even after the erotic part was over.
An accidental pregnancy, a wedding, and before long the newly-wed colonists were living together in a tiny one-room flat in the rapidly developing colonial settlement.
Then his wife suggested they try something interesting. As a result, she invited her former boyfriend and his wife—who happened to look like an adult Padma Patil—and the two married couples held a swingers' party.
In the dream, everything seemed perfectly normal and logical to Richard, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself, but when he woke up in the middle of the swingers' party, his eyes bulged in astonishment and he said:
"Bloody hell! What utter rubbish to dream about!"
Lifting the blanket, Richie discovered a surprise—a rather pleasant one, one might say. His friend was standing rigidly to attention.
"Well, hello there, puberty," he whispered.
Puberty brought a great many problems with it. Richard began noticing increased emotionality and a growing attraction to the opposite sex. He managed the latter somehow or other through sublimation, but keeping his emotions under control proved considerably more difficult.
June arrived, bringing the hectic exam season with it. This time, Richard successfully passed every exam, earning the highest grade of Outstanding in all of them, even Potions and Herbology. He encountered difficulties only with Potions and Transfiguration, since the professors of those subjects were prejudiced against Grosvenor. Richie had to make an enormous effort to secure the top marks.
It seemed that was that—another couple of weeks while the older students sat their exams, and then he could go home and attend to more important matters.
Richie was in a good mood as he returned to the Hufflepuff common room after his History of Magic exam. Suddenly, the wizardphone in his pocket rang. Richard stopped and pulled out the handset.
"Hello."
Harry Potter's hysterical voice burst from the speaker:
"Richie, I need help!"
"Harry, what happened?"
"I..." Potter sobbed. "And he... They... him..."
Nothing could be made out from Harry's incoherent mumbling.
"Harry, where are you?"
"North Wing," Potter managed more coherently. "That room where we gave the owl the laxative."
"Wait there. I'll be with you soon."
Richard had no idea what had happened. He made his way to the room as quickly as he possibly could. It was a long way, so even running, it took him about ten minutes to get there.
Grosvenor flung open the door and froze stock-still in the doorway. His eyes nearly popped out of his head.
The room looked more like the lair of some blood-soaked homicidal maniac who dismembered his victims. Everything was spattered with blood: the floors, the walls, the windows—even the ceiling had not escaped. Chunks of flesh were scattered everywhere, a blood-soaked rag hung from the chandelier, and in the far corner lay a long foot with slender toes and greyish skin. Against the far end wall lay the bloodied head of a house-elf, its lifeless, glassy eyes frozen in a mixture of boundless astonishment and horror.
Harry stood motionless in the centre of the room. He stared blankly into the distance beyond the window, rocking back and forth on his feet. His skin was deathly pale, and his left cheek was smeared with blood, a deep scratch running across it.
Stone fragments were scattered everywhere, while the far end wall was pockmarked with numerous deep craters, as though it had been raked by fire from a powerful heavy machine gun.
Even during the war in his previous life, Richard had never witnessed anything quite so horrific. Yes, he had seen his share of horrors, but never this sort of bloody madness. A lump rose in his throat. But the boy quickly mastered himself.
Grosvenor slipped into the abandoned classroom, closed the door and immediately locked it with a spell. He hurried over to Harry. Ignoring Potter's blood-spattered robes, he brought his friend back to his senses with a couple of solid slaps across the face.
"Harry, there's no time to sit here tormenting yourself. Do you understand me?"
"Richie..." the pale Potter croaked. "I killed him..."
"How many fingers can you see?"
Richard held up two fingers. Potter focused on them and answered:
"Two."
"Excellent," Grosvenor said with relief, immediately reaching into his bag. "Hold still. I'm going to treat your wound with Wiggenweld Potion."
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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