The witch produced a letter written on yellowish parchment.
"Richard, here is your invitation to Hogwarts. I believe we can still make it to Diagon Alley to purchase everything on the list before your celebration."
"Madam McGonagall," Richard said with a faint trace of irony, "thank you for such a generous offer, but I must disappoint you. I do not require your company for a shopping trip. First, I should note that I have already acquired nearly everything for Hogwarts, with the exception of robes, potion ingredients, and a wand. Second, I am not prepared to trade long-planned preparations for receiving guests for a shopping excursion. Thank you for the letter and for your visit."
McGonagall clearly did not like the situation she had found herself in. She felt like a pig that had burst from a sty into a finely decorated house. The two impeccably dressed gentlemen—young and older—gave no outward sign of it, yet the witch keenly felt that she was out of place in this house and had clearly made a huge mistake in deciding to reveal the wonders of the magical world to a Muggle-born wizard. Minerva had intended to demonstrate a few impressive tricks, to persuade the boy's parents of the necessity of magical education. Instead, it felt as though she had arrived uninvited at the home of pure-blood wizards like the Malfoys.
"Mr. Richard Grosvenor, then you agree to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?!" the woman asked.
"Yes, ma'am. Will you stay for tea?"
"No, no, I have matters to attend to… yes, many important matters. Since my assistance is not required, I will take my leave."
"Thank you for your visit, ma'am," Richard said, rising from his chair and nodding farewell.
"Have a pleasant journey, Madam McGonagall," Gerald added, standing to his full height and offering a polite bow.
Minerva left Eaton Hall in a rather disheartened state. Since she had already planned to spend the day introducing a Muggle-born wizard to the magical world, she decided to visit another Muggle family whose child was due to begin at Hogwarts that year.
After leaving the estate grounds, the witch summoned the Knight Bus and set off for the required address.
When McGonagall stepped off the bus, she was greeted by the sight of a tall wrought-iron fence with ornate gates, beyond which, in the distance, stood an enormous mansion. A bad feeling immediately took root in her chest…
***
Several hours after the visit from the Hogwarts deputy headmistress, Richard was greeting guests at the entrance to the drawing room.
The guests arrived, presented gifts—which the young Grosvenor handed to the valet—and then dispersed throughout the first floor of the house.
Then another car arrived—a luxurious sky-blue Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit. The driver obligingly opened the rear door, and a chubby-cheeked boy and a stout man stepped out, his expensive black jacket stretched over a prominent belly.
Richard studied the newcomers carefully and recognized them at once. Mr. Finch-Fletchley—with his tall stature, solid build, chestnut hair, and piercing brown eyes—was hard to mistake for anyone else.
"Richie, hi!" the boy said cheerfully. "Happy birthday!"
"Justin, glad to see you. Thank you for the congratulations. Lord Finch-Fletchley, my greetings. Excellent jacket."
"Ho-ho-ho!" the man chuckled good-naturedly. "Richie, you've grown and matured so much! Enough with the formalities—we're practically business partners. Our last deal brought me a tidy profit. If anything like that comes up again"—he winked—"come to me. We'll work something out."
"I certainly will, Lord Finch-Fletchley. I have… let's say, something you might find interesting. What are your thoughts on iridium, palladium, and ruthenium?"
"Iridium?"
"Yes, sir."
"These metals do have value and won't attract too much attention," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said cautiously. "I would be willing to handle their sale…"
"On the same terms as before, sir."
"Richard, you could at least ask for a discount," Mr. Finch-Fletchley said with a hint. "These metals don't bear any serial markings," he added in a whisper.
"Sir, I fully understand how rare such elements are. They would have to be sold gradually so as not to crash the market. I cannot ask you to take risks for a minimal spread."
"Well then," a broad smile spread across the banker's face, "excellent, Richard. Call me Robert—or Uncle Robbie. Happy birthday!"
"Thank you, Uncle Robbie," Richard said, accepting the gift from the banker and passing it to the valet. "Father was somewhere in the dining room. He'll be glad to see you."
"Well then, enjoy yourselves, boys."
The cheerful banker headed off toward the dining room.
"Richie, where should I go?" Justin asked.
"Jus, you arrived last. Come on—we'll need to sit in the dining room with the adults first, and then we can go ride the ATVs and mopeds."
"Mopeds?!" Justin exclaimed excitedly.
"Exactly. Jus, why do you look so out of it today? Did something happen?"
"Well, I…" Justin hesitated, unsure how to answer.
"If you don't want to say, you don't have to."
"Well… Richie, you see, just as we were about to get into the car, some lady showed up and introduced herself as the deputy headmistress of some private school… She… well… convinced my father that I would have to go there. And yet I was planning to go to Eton at the end of August!"
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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