"Researching the effects of Avada Kedavra?!" Nymphadora's eyes widened. "But people get sent to Azkaban for using that spell!"
"On people, Tonks!" Richard raised an index finger. "For using it on people! Nobody has outlawed experiments on mice. Besides, I happen to have the Queen's permission in my pocket. And don't argue—just pass along the request."
"Yes, sir."
Upon returning home, Richard was greeted by a comfortable armchair by the fireplace, tea and sweets waiting on the table, and his father seated opposite him.
The moment Richard settled into the chair and took a sip of tea, Gerald asked:
"How did your day go?"
"Magnificently," Richard replied wearily.
"Did it?" the Duke asked doubtfully. "You look like a zombie."
"That's all Gran's fault..." Grosvenor Jr. sighed heavily.
In response, the Duke raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"The good news," Richard began, "is that we managed to get Bagnold into the Minister's chair, and I reached an agreement with Gran regarding the power plants."
"Mmm..." A broad grin spread across Gerald's face. "And how much did she demand?"
With another weary sigh, Richard answered:
"Half. But... I managed to negotiate her down to forty percent."
"Not bad," the Duke praised him with restraint. "Very respectable indeed. I take it we're talking about a monopoly?"
"Yep." The boy nodded. "If I'd only built a single power plant, Gran would've settled for ten percent. But she was the one who suggested gradually creating a monopoly, provided I didn't drive nuclear power plants off the market, since they're important to the state from a military perspective. And not just in Britain. She promised to help expand into other countries once the stations prove themselves reliable and inexpensive."
"Excellent!" The broad smile on the normally reserved Duke's face spoke volumes about his delight. "That's more than I dared hope for. Son, if this continues, you'll end up wealthier than I am."
"I certainly hope so. But that's not all."
"What else?" Gerald asked curiously.
Richard grimaced as though suffering from a toothache.
"Gran ordered a spacecraft 'for herself' at nearly cost price. I had to agree."
"Richie, that's not particularly difficult for you, is it?" Gerald asked.
"Dad, it's not a problem at all. It's not as though I'll be doing all the work myself—rowing like a galley slave, so to speak. I'll simply hire more wizards. Still, it means slowing down some of the other projects. We also talked about Riddle's ghost."
The smile vanished from Gerald's face, replaced by tense lines across his forehead.
"Richie, you didn't tell her about the Philosopher's Stone, did you?" he asked.
"No, Dad." Richard shook his head. "I presented it as an ill-advised attempt to steal the valuable artifact known as the Mirror of Erised, which I intended to use to create a worldwide network for viewing people's fantasies. Then I described everything that happened while carefully omitting any mention of the Philosopher's Stone."
"Richie, I'm curious—how did the Queen react to the news of Riddle's ghost?" Gerald asked with concern.
"I learned quite a lot." Richard rubbed his eyes tiredly before continuing. "It turns out Her Majesty has a magical equivalent of MI6: the Department of Mysteries. They collect and store all dangerous artifacts, conduct magical research, provide security for Her Majesty, and, as you can imagine, function as an intelligence service within the magical world."
"I see..." Gerald looked surprised. "I didn't know that. Though I suppose something of the sort was to be expected. But you didn't learn all this for no reason..."
"That's putting it mildly." A long groan escaped Richard. "Gran decided to dump the problem in my lap. Though she did promise support from the Department of Mysteries. And my scar..."
Richard raised his right hand and displayed the small scar.
"What's wrong with it?!" Gerald frowned.
"Dad, it's a rune-shaped scar caused by a spark from the Killing Curse!" Richard said, his voice rising slightly. "There are only two known people with scars like this—Harry Potter and me—and in both cases Tom Riddle was involved."
"And?" Gerald's raised eyebrow made it abundantly clear he expected an explanation.
"I don't know what it means or what danger it poses," Richard replied. "Which means we'll have to conduct experiments involving Avada Kedavra, mice, and wizards sentenced to death. Gran approved it—in fact, she insisted on it—but I don't like the idea one bit."
"To hell with the criminals," Gerald said coldly. "The Queen is right. This problem needs to be understood. Richie, don't trouble yourself over it."
"If only someone could convince my conscience of that..." Richard muttered under his breath.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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