A couple of days after the charity reception, Gerald checked into a wizarding hospital for four days. He returned home slightly younger and brimming with energy. Visually, the man seemed to have shed fifteen to twenty years: wrinkles had smoothed out, the skin on his chin had tightened, and the extra weight was gone. It felt as though Mr. Grosvenor had undergone an extremely expensive cosmetic procedure.
Gerald arrived home just in time for lunch. After the meal, he called his son into the living room, where father and son traditionally sat in armchairs by the fireplace.
"Richie, now I'm absolutely certain that wizards exist. Ho-ho!" Gerald chuckled good-naturedly. "It's hard not to believe after getting rid of chronic ailments in four days and becoming a bit younger in the process. Though I must admit—every wizard I met was rather strange."
"I don't doubt that," Richard said. "Dad, you really do look much better. But… I'll admit, I was afraid that after you found out I was a wizard, you'd start treating me differently. Worse."
"What utter nonsense!" Lord Grosvenor snorted indignantly. "Richie, you're my son. I love you regardless of your abilities. So what if you're a wizard?! To me, that's no different than being a magician—or having some other talent, like playing the violin."
"Thank you," Richard murmured quietly, relief washing over him.
"By the way, son," Gerald continued, "Charlie contacted me today. He said he's found you a wizard tutor."
"And how did he manage that, did he say?" Richard asked curiously.
"Charlie said a lot of things, as usual," Mr. Grosvenor shrugged. "But if you're interested—through his channels, he contacted the Minister of Magic and requested a magical mentor for a member of the royal family. The Minister was shocked and immediately agreed. Moreover, she refused payment, saying the tutor would be provided at the Ministry's expense. So, Richie, get ready—Charlie will be coming tomorrow, accompanied by wizards."
"I'm looking forward to it."
The rest of the day dragged on like stretched rubber. Richard was restless with anticipation, awaiting his meeting with a real wizard.
In the morning, after aerobics, Richard took a shower and dressed in a brand-new, tailor-sharp suit. He slicked his hair back with gel. The transmigrator looked like a model young aristocrat—the very embodiment of elegance. His back was straight, his shoulders squared; only his eyes betrayed his excitement.
About an hour after breakfast, the doorbell rang. A maid escorted the guests into the living room, where both Grosvenors were waiting.
Of the three visitors, only one was familiar to Richard—Prince Charles. He was accompanied by two ladies.
At the prince's right hand, a woman of about forty—or perhaps a little older—was walking with an air of importance. Yet Richard wasn't fooled by appearances. As he'd already learned, wizards had ways of preserving youth. And really, not only wizards—even ordinary people had plenty of means to look younger these days.
With lively curiosity, the woman's gray-blue eyes took in the interior before she assessed both Grosvenors with a practiced glance. Her red hair was pulled into a strict bun. She couldn't exactly be called a beauty if one judged by her face .Not ugly—actually rather pleasant. Still, a narrower nose and thinner lips definitely have suited her better. She was dressed in a severe, elegant suit. Yet even in such restrained clothing, the lady somehow managed to look downright provocative, drawing the male gaze. The reason was her strikingly ample bust—prominent DD cup—paired with a slim waist and a perfect posture that made her figure appear even more pronounced.
On the heir's left walked an elderly lady. This tiny, stooped old woman, with a face wrinkled as though covered in a fine web, possessed a lively gaze in her faded gray eyes. Her gray hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. She wore an old-fashioned, high-collared dark green dress.
Prince Charles spoke:
"Ladies, allow me to introduce Lord Gerald Grosvenor, Duke of Westminster, and my godson, Count Richard Grosvenor—the very boy I told you about. Richie, Gerald—this lovely lady," he gestured toward the woman with voluptuous curves, "is Millicent Bagnold, Minister of Magic. And this remarkable lady," he indicated the old woman, "is Griselda Marchbanks, an elder of the Wizengamot—the wizarding court. She has volunteered to serve as Richard's tutor."
Gerald bowed to the ladies with dignity. Richard followed his father's example.
Mrs. Bagnold smiled radiantly and said politely:
"A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. It is an honor to be of service to the Duke and his heir."
"On the contrary, my lady," Grosvenor Sr. replied in the same courteous tone. "The honor is ours, to welcome such guests into our home. Please—do make yourselves comfortable," he said, gesturing toward the sofas facing one another.
The old woman studied Richard with keen interest. Rather loudly, she said:
"A charming boy. So you're the one I'll be teaching magic to?"
"Yes, ma'am," Richard replied. "Forgive the impertinent question, but may I ask how old you are?"
"That is an impertinent question," the old woman replied, unnecessarily loudly—apparently suffering from poor hearing. "I taught Charms at Hogwarts some two hundred years ago, so you've been assigned a very experienced mentor, Richard. I hope you won't disappoint my expectations and that you truly are as talented as Millicent described."
"I'll do my best, ma'am," Richard answered, impressed by the lady's age. "Please, allow me to assist you."
Richie offered her his arm, which she accepted politely, not refusing the help. Judging by the look Madam Marchbanks gave the boy, he'd just earned himself several points in her estimation.
Soon the witches settled onto the sofa closer to the staircase, while Richie, Charles, and Gerald sat opposite them. A mahogany coffee table separated the wizards from the aristocrats. Richard found himself wedged between the two adults.
Almost immediately, a maid fluttered into the living room carrying a tray. The young woman moved silently, deftly arranging five cups and saucers on the table, silver teaspoons, a plump porcelain teapot filled with hot Earl Grey, a sugar bowl, and a creamer. She also placed small dishes of jam, waffles, candies, and biscuits.
The maid left the room just as swiftly and soundlessly as she had entered.
(End of Chapter)
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