Until now, Richard had never been inside the Headmaster's office.
Gabriel Truman escorted the first-year all the way to the top floor of the central tower. Stopping before a gargoyle statue, he said:
"Marmalade."
At the password, the statue sprang to life, gave the visitors a careful once-over, and slid aside.
"That's it, Grosvenor. You're on your own from here," the prefect said, turning back the way he had come.
Richard took several deep breaths to steady his nerves before stepping onto the staircase. Suddenly, the steps began to rise like an escalator, and Richie barely managed to seize the banister in time to keep his footing.
The moving staircase carried the Hufflepuff first-year to a landing before a massive door fitted with a griffin-shaped knocker. Richard struck the knocker, and the door swung open.
Quite a number of people had gathered inside the spacious circular office with its multitude of windows. Living portraits hung upon the walls, presumably those of former Headmasters and Headmistresses. Above the main desk hung the largest portrait of all — a grey-haired old man with a long beard. The office was cluttered with all manner of delicate silver instruments perched upon spindly-legged tables; some emitted constant rattles and chimes, while others puffed and released little streams of smoke. At the same time, magical folios and manuscripts had also found refuge here, forming part of Dumbledore's personal library, along with a stone basin upon a steel tripod and a phoenix — a great bird with golden plumage.
The Headmaster's magical instruments immediately led Richard to suspect they had been arranged to distract visitors. A well-known tactic amongst businessmen, though rarely used, since it was generally favoured by swindlers. Con artists often attempted to divert a person's attention in precisely this fashion, making them easier to manipulate. Respectable businessmen frowned upon such methods, just as they did lower chairs for visitors — like the ones in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office. Another familiar trick. The owner of the office sat higher, giving visitors a subconscious sense of discomfort and a desire to conclude matters as quickly as possible, which inevitably led to mistakes, poor bargaining, and the like.
Dumbledore sat serenely behind his desk, fingertips pressed together. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall stood rigidly at his right, her face taut with severe tension. On his left stood Professor Sprout, who looked deeply distressed, while the dirt upon her robes suggested the Head of Hufflepuff had been summoned unexpectedly from the greenhouses.
Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, a stout grey-haired, brown-eyed man in a striped suit, rocked from heel to toe beside the large fireplace, looking distinctly agitated. But what unsettled Richard most were the two Aurors in scarlet robes stationed on either side of the entrance: a solidly built black-haired African-American wizard with close-cropped hair, and a stocky wizard with stiff fair hair no longer than an inch.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Richard said politely with a slight bow, carrying himself with aristocratic dignity. "What a delightful gathering. The prefect informed me that you wished to see me, Headmaster."
The portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses regarded the gathering with grave curiosity. Some wandered into neighbouring frames, whispering amongst themselves.
Cornelius Fudge stared at Richard with a mixture of disdain and overwhelming superiority that the young Grosvenor could not interpret. Richard had no idea what was happening, and that unsettled him.
"So then, Mister Grosvenor, are you aware of why you are here?" Fudge asked.
"Sir," Richard frowned, "we have not been introduced. I have no idea why I am here, but clearly not to endure insults. Only teachers and school staff possess the right to address students as equals. You do not resemble a Hogwarts professor, therefore kindly address me properly: Lord, Earl, Lord Earl, Earl Grosvenor, or, if you prefer, my lord."
Richard fixed the Minister with a cold, disdainful look, as though he had suddenly discovered a foul-smelling pile of horse dung upon the sole of his shoe, with no notion how it had got there. Fudge visibly recoiled at the address. His face began to redden with fury.
The young Hufflepuff noticed the black Auror tense subtly. The man narrowed his eyes at the Minister as though weighing up the best way to kill him. A similarly fleeting look was cast towards his fellow Auror.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips disapprovingly and shot Richard a stern glance. Professor Sprout, on the contrary, looked at the Minister with disapproval. Headmaster Dumbledore positively radiated delight, like a cat that had stolen the household cream. In truth, he looked entirely too pleased with himself — enough to make one wish to force-feed him a lemon so he would stop squinting so happily.
Fudge struggled to regain control of himself before asking in a voice dripping with sarcasm:
"So, you truly haven't the faintest idea why you've been brought here?"
"Sir," Richard replied haughtily, "if you summoned me here to play guessing games, then you have chosen the wrong person."
"Mister Grosvenor," McGonagall said coldly and sternly, "you are standing before the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
"Professor McGonagall," Richard said with a polite nod to the lady, "thank you for observing proper etiquette. It is a pity—"
"And what, pray tell, do you pity, young man?" Fudge asked with irony. "Surely not your crimes?"
(End of Chapter)
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