Richard was plagued by entirely justified doubts that Fudge refrained from taking bribes. After all, he was well aware that Lucius Malfoy slipped the Minister no fewer than five hundred Galleons into his pocket every year. And here the matter could have involved tens of thousands of gold coins.
Which once more led Richard to the conclusion that the entire situation had been carefully orchestrated and played out like a rehearsed performance by someone with real influence in the wizarding world. Someone inclined towards intrigue and manipulation. Which, once again, matched the doctor's description of Dumbledore perfectly.
The Hogwarts Hospital Wing was fairly spacious. It occupied several rooms, one of which was rather large and served as the infirmary itself. The single beds were separated from one another by privacy screens.
There was also a treatment room, a shared toilet for both boys and girls, a shower intended for one patient at a time, and a room where the Healer resided.
Once Madam Pomfrey had retired to her private quarters, Richard made use of one of the enchantments Madam Marchbanks had used to bind the boy to his house-elf. The principle was simple: the house-elf could sense where his master was and hear his summons. There existed a few rare places from which such a call could not be sent, and to which house-elves could not Apparate — Azkaban and the Ministry of Magic, for instance. But Hogwarts was not one of them.
After all, house-elves both lived and worked within the school; indeed, it housed the largest house-elf community in Britain. Any spells preventing their movement would interfere with their duties: silently teleporting food and dishes throughout the castle, collecting students' laundry, and countless other tasks besides.
"Donky," Richard called quietly.
With a soft crack, a house-elf appeared beside the hospital bed upon which the younger Grosvenor lay. By wizarding standards, the elf's appearance was extraordinarily unusual: an expensive black three-piece suit, a pristine white shirt, and a tie. Every article of clothing was spotless, neatly pressed, and tailored to perfection. His polished shoes gleamed so brightly one could practically see one's reflection in them.
"Lord summoned Donky?" the elf asked in a prim tone.
"Greetings, Donky," Richard said softly so as not to attract the Healer's attention. "Keep your voice down. Better yet, tell me which of our workshop employees has been informing the Ministry of Magic."
"Wizards Dylan MacDougal and Caleb Sonder," the elf answered without hesitation.
"And what compromising material do you have on them?"
"My Lord," the house-elf replied with a deep bow, "Donky has gathered sufficient compromising material on all the wizards. Mister MacDougal stole ingredients from the workshop worth a total of one hundred and eighty Galleons, five Sickles, and three Knuts. Mister Sonder stole fifty grams of gold, a ten-gallon cauldron, one enchanted ninja suit, and a yard of dragon hide. I possess wizarding photographs showing all the thefts."
"Excellent! Absolutely marvellous!" Richard's mood immediately improved. "Donky, deliver all information concerning the thefts committed by those two wizards to Mister Arthur Weasley. That will be all."
No sooner had the house-elf vanished with another crack than Richie produced his wizardphone. After pressing the call button, Arthur Weasley's cheerful voice soon sounded through the speaker:
"Lord Grosvenor, delighted to hear from you."
"Good afternoon, Mister Weasley. I have an urgent task for you."
"I am listening carefully, my Lord," Arthur replied.
"I have just received information that certain employees of ours have been stealing my property on a massive scale. I have sent a house-elf to you with evidence and photographs documenting the thefts."
"Sir, who are these wizards?!" Arthur exclaimed indignantly.
"Dylan MacDougal and Caleb Sonder," Richard replied. "Mister Weasley, I want these wizards punished to the fullest extent of the law as an example to others. Dismissing them without severance pay will not be sufficient for me. File a formal complaint with the magical authorities together with all the evidence."
"My Lord, but they'll be sent to Azkaban," Mister Weasley said anxiously.
"A thief belongs in prison!" Richard declared firmly. "Surely you agree with that, Mister Weasley?"
"Yes, but they have wives, children…"
"They should have thought of their wives and children before crossing a Grosvenor," Richard said coldly. "Mister Weasley, these wizards attempted to have me imprisoned through a false denunciation to the Minister for Magic in order to conceal their thefts. Surely you do not sympathise with such scum?"
"What?!" Mister Weasley sounded utterly astonished. "They informed on you, my Lord? After stealing from you? And with such generous salaries…"
"Today the Minister himself arrived accompanied by Aurors and attempted to arrest me, waving a parchment filled with accusations from those wizards in my face. A worthless scrap of paper portraying me as a villain worse than You-Know-Who… Naturally, the Minister accomplished nothing… Mister Weasley, may I rely upon you?"
"My Lord," Arthur's voice rang with righteous indignation, "I am utterly appalled by Dylan and Caleb's actions. How dare they?! Sir, rest assured — they shall answer for everything!"
"Thank you, Mister Weasley. I am relying on you."
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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