Aristocrat (HP/SI)

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***

Richard had never had to be in the principal's office before. Gabriel Truman escorted the freshman to the top floor of the central tower. Stopping beside the gargoyle statue, he said:

- Marmalade.

Upon hearing the password, the statue came to life, scrutinised the visitors and shifted to the side.

- That's it, Grosvenor, you're on your own," the headman said and turned back around.

Richard took a few deep breaths to calm his excitement and then took a step forward onto the stairs. Suddenly the stairs went upwards like an escalator, Richie barely had time to grab the banister to stay on his feet.The moving staircase brought the Puffendui freshman to a landing with a massive door with a griffin-shaped hammer. Richard tapped the hammer and the door swung open.

The spacious round office with many windows was quite crowded. On the walls hung living portraits, apparently of former headmasters of the school. Behind the main desk hung the largest portrait of a grey-haired old man with a long beard. The room was filled with a variety of tables with twisted legs, on which were placed delicate silver instruments; some crackled and tinkled incessantly, others puffed and puffed and let out streams of smoke. There were also magical folios and manuscripts that made up Dumbledore's personal library, a stone bowl on a steel tripod, and a phoenix, a large bird with golden plumage.

The Headmaster's magical devices immediately led Richard to think that they were put up to distract the attention of visitors. It is a well-known technique among businessmen, but rarely used, because it is used mainly by swindlers. For example, swindlers in this way try to divert the attention of a person to make it easier to process him. Solid businessmen do not approve of such techniques, as well as lower chairs for visitors, as in the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts. The trick is also a well-known one. The owner of the office sits higher, which makes the visitor subconsciously feel uncomfortable and want to get things done sooner, which unwittingly leads to mistakes, bad bargaining and the like.

Dumbledore sat at his desk with a serene look, fingertips linked together. Deputy Headmaster McGonagall froze beside him on his right side, a serious look of tension on her face. To his left stood Professor Sprout - she looked very flustered, and the dirt on her robes suggested that the Dean of Puffenduil had been summoned unexpectedly from the greenhouses.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, a grey-haired, brown-eyed, full-bodied man in a pinstriped suit, was rocking from heel to toe near the large fireplace - he looked worried. But what confused Richard the most were the two aurors in scarlet robes that flanked the front door: a stout, black-haired African-American with short hair and a stocky wizard with stiff, russet hair no more than an inch long.

- Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Richard bowed politely, with the dignity of an aristocrat. - A marvellous company. The Headmaster said you wished to see me, Headmaster.

The portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses looked earnestly and with great curiosity. Some of them moved to other pictures and whispered to each other about something.

Cornelius Fudge gazed at Richard with a degree of contempt and incredible superiority which young Grosvenor could not interpret. Richard didn't understand what was going on, and it was unnerving.

- Now, Mr Grosvenor, do you know why you are here? - Fudge asked.

- 'Sir,' Richard frowned. - 'We're not represented. I have no idea why I'm here, but clearly not to endure insults. Only teachers and school staff have the right to treat students equally. You don't look like a Hogwarts teacher, so address me properly: Lord, Earl, Lord Count, Lord Earl, Earl Grosvenor, or, if you prefer, My Lord.

Richard gave the minister a cold, contemptuous stare, as if he had suddenly discovered a foul-smelling horse scone on the sole of his shoe. Such treatment made Fudge shudder. His face began to turn scarlet with anger.

The young Puffin had time to notice the black-clad Auror's expression. He squinted at the Minister, as if considering how best to nail him. His fellow Auror received a similarly subtle glance from him.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and gave Richard a stern look. Professor Sprout, on the other hand, looked disapprovingly at the Minister. Headmaster Dumbledore was beaming with pleasure, like a cat that had stolen the owner's sour cream. Perhaps he looked a little too pleased to be fed a lemon to keep him from squinting happily.

Fudge struggled to pull himself together and asked in a voice full of sarcasm:

- 'So you haven't the faintest idea why you're here, then?

- Sir," said Richard haughtily, "if you asked me to play riddles, you've got the wrong man.

- Mr Grosvenor," McGonagall said in a cold, stern voice, "this is the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

- Professor McGonagall," Richard nodded politely at the lady, "thank you for your decorum. It's a pity...

- What are you sorry about, young man? - Fudge asked ironically. - Is it your crimes?

- It's a pity the Minister is not Mrs Bagnold," Richard sighed mockingly. - Such a nice lady, so well acquainted with the rules of decorum. When she was a guest at our estate, my godfather, Prince Charles, praised Madam Bagnold's professionalism and impeccable manners.

McGonagall's eyes bulged. She opened her mouth in astonishment.

Dumbledore seemed to be enjoying himself. His pupils glistened merrily beneath his half glasses, and the corners of his eyes were crinkled with amusement. Richard glanced furtively at the Headmaster, who encouraged the tabletop with a microscopic nod and a hint of a wink. Grosvenor didn't like it; he felt as if he was being manipulated by such trivial tricks.

The minister's face blushed red and his right eye twitched.

- Familiarity with royalty," Fudge was hoarse with anger, "does not exempt you from punishment for breaking magical law!

- I am clean before the law," Richard countered calmly, but he found it hard to remain calm.

If it wasn't for the lessons with strict tutors and business negotiations with business sharks, the young wizard would hardly be able to hold himself with such calmness and dignity.

- I have other information," Fudge said with malicious anticipation. - You, Lord Grosvenor, have broken the law about illegal use of enchanted Muggle things!

Richard shrugged calmly and replied:

- I'm a schoolboy, Mr Minister. I don't know how to glamour anything. Professor McGonagall can confirm that we haven't been taught anything like that yet.

- That is indeed true," McGonagall replied dryly. - What nonsense? - she glared angrily at the Minister. - How can you accuse a first-year of something like that?!

- Have you gone completely mad, Minister?! - Professor Sprout exploded with furious indignation.

- Oh, no! - Fudge exclaimed, swaying on his toes again. - You haven't glamoured anything yourself. But you, Lord Grosvenor, have an enterprise that employs skilled wizards. And they enchant Muggle equipment for you!

- So? - A wry, mocking smile contorted Richard's face. He gave the Minister an arrogant look. - Mr Fudge, since when did the laws of magical Britain forbid enchanting Muggle items?

- Yes, Cornelius," Dumbledore said with a serious look, "I, too, am wondering since when did nonexistent laws come into existence?

- I misunderstood a little," the Minister grumbled unhappily. - Yes, the laws don't forbid the enchantment of Muggle objects, but..." his whole look spoke of rightness and a desire to end the unpleasant matter. - I know for a fact that enchanted items from Lord Grosvenor's workshop are falling into Muggle hands! And that is a serious offence, violating the statute of secrecy.

- If I'm not mistaken," Richard countered calmly, "you have a whole department in the Ministry dedicated to preventing magical items from falling into Muggle hands. I don't see what that has to do with me. I'm at Hogwarts most of the time, and I don't know a thing about what's going on in the workshop.

- I have other information," Fudge exclaimed triumphantly. - One of your employees told me everything, so don't deny it. You'll only make things worse for yourself.

- And what could a member of staff have said? - Richard asked ironically. - How do I give enchanted things to Muggles?! Maybe I do it straight from Hogwarts?

- Minister, this is out of line! - McGonagall hissed angrily. - This is outrageous! How can you accuse the boy of something like this? He's never been away from Hogwarts and he couldn't have done any of these things!

- I will not allow my students to be slandered! - Professor Sprout stood up for Richard. She put her hands to her sides and glared angrily at the Minister.

Fudge took a step back and glared at the aurors. Feeling the support of the law enforcement agencies behind him, he grew bolder.

- Lord Grosvenor didn't give enchanted objects to Muggles himself," the minister corrected himself, "but he did have Muggles pick up enchanted objects on his instructions.

Richard asked with frank sarcasm:

- 'What, the Muggles would just come to the wizards and say, "Earl Grosvenor sent us," and then take the enchanted objects!

- Oh, no! - Fudge grinned triumphantly. - You, young man, have devised a more sophisticated scheme. The enchanted items are stored in the hangar, and at night, when no wizard is left in the workshop, the Muggles come there and take the artefacts!

- So, Mr. Minister," Richard's voice was poisoned by a tonne of sarcasm, "you're telling me straight out that you know about the cases of mass theft of artefacts in my workshop, and yet you come and accuse the Lord of an absurd crime? Instead of investigating the theft?! You're a brave man! Putting the wizards of Great Britain on the brink of life and death to cover up your own incompetence... Brave. Brave, but stupid.

- Is that a threat?! - the Minister gasped in indignation.

- A statement of fact," Ritchie nodded at the black auror. - This gentleman here, I think he realised at once how foolish it was to accuse a member of the royal family of something absurd. Sir, would you care to share with the Minister the consequences of such a decision?

- War with the Muggles," the black-clad auror replied dryly. - The Queen will not forgive wizards if something happens to a member of her family. And it would definitely be a violation of the statute of secrecy, and on a global scale.

There was a sepulchral silence in the study. The rustling and whistling sounds of glass and instruments became audible.

- Hmmm..." Dumbledore's quiet cough drew everyone's attention. - Cornelius, I don't suppose you have any hard evidence to accuse my student of a crime.

- There is," Fudge objected.

The minister took a folded sheet of parchment from an inner pocket and unfolded it.

- This is where the good wizard described the whole scheme of the crime," he said.

Dumbledore came out from behind the desk and stepped forward. He took the parchment from Fudge and ran through the text carefully. Then looked up, smiling.

- 'Well, I don't see any offence to charge my student with,' he said simply.

- How so? - The minister burst into indignation. - It says it all!

Dumbledore shook his head slightly and looked at the Minister with a fatherly smile.

- It says," he said calmly, "that Muggles are secretly taking enchanted objects from Mr Grosvenor's workshop hangar at night. That's the only fact, and it's circumstantial, Cornelius. The rest is speculation, unsubstantiated by anything but unsubstantiated accusations. As chairman of the Wizengamot, I can tell you that this charter is a wipe at most. This document can in no way serve as a basis for accusing the young man of a crime. But Lord Grosvenor has the right to sue for slander against the author of this opus," the Headmaster waved the parchment in front of the Minister's eyes.

Suddenly the Minister's expression changed: he understood. Taking a step back, he muttered:

- What... I didn't... But I was told....

- You have been misled, Cornelius," Dumbledore said.

Richard squinted at the Minister through the slits of his eyelids, as if he were looking through the telescopic sight of a sniper blaster at an enemy in a virtual group-shooter game. He was concerned, worried, frightened, but hid these feelings under a mask of cold indifference. But the underlying emotion was dominated by anger. Even rage, cold as arctic ice, that broke through.

Fudge noticed the look in the young lord's eyes, and he felt afraid. The minister's heart skipped a beat. He saw the little boy in front of him, but with every fibre of his soul he felt as if he were locked in a cage with a hungry dragon, hungry for the juicy flesh of the elderly wizard. Fudge looked at Richard with a mixed expression of horror and bravado.

- Kingsley! - he exclaimed loudly. - We're leaving.

- Yes, sir," the dark-skinned auror said with relief.

The Minister walked over to the fireplace and threw a handful of smoking powder into it.

- Ministry of Magic," he said, then turned round.

Behind the Minister's back, green flames flickered in the fireplace.

- I'm not going to let this go! - Fudge said angrily, then turned round and jumped into the fire.

Following the Minister, the Aurors left the office through the fireplace.

Pomona Sprout heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed.

Professor McGonagall was no longer a taut string, but she still had a stern and disgruntled expression on her face.

Headmaster Dumbledore turned to the deans in a fatherly tone:

- Pomona, Minerva, you go. Don't worry about Mr Grosvenor, he's safe in my office.

- Very well, Albus," McGonagall replied, then headed for the exit.

Professor Sprout walked over to Richard and patted him on the top of his head.

- Everything is fine, my good man," she smiled warmly. - Once you've spoken to the Headmaster, go to your dormitory and rest. If you don't feel well, go to the hospital wing.

- Thank you, Dean Sprout," Richard thanked her sincerely.

Soon the Headmaster and the young Puffindu were alone in the office, save for the phoenix and the many living portraits.

- Is there anything you want to tell me, my boy? - Dumbledore asked in a good-natured tone.

Richard involuntarily ran the back of his hand along his chin. He scrutinised the Headmaster, noting little things, like the white stars on his purple robe, like a fairy-tale stargazer, the bells in his beard, and the sharp eyes hidden behind half-rimmed spectacles.

- Gorgeous beard, Headmaster Dumbledore," the boy broke the silence. - It must be hard to care for it, huh?

- Not easy," the corners of Dumbledore's lips crept upwards. - But magic works wonders. Just a couple of passes of the wand in the morning and the beard looks great.

"It's like a forensic psychiatrist's report," Richard noted to himself. - The clothes, the demeanour, the way he took the initiative in talking to the minister. And I'm alone with this psycho. Oh, my soft spot knows the Headmaster wasn't just trying to get me out of Azkaban. On the one hand, he showed the Minister his power in the school, on the other hand, as if he did a big favour to the young lord, but in fact just fulfilled his duties as head of the school. And although I really nothing threatened, because the charges were really sewn white threads, but from the outside for a child of my age such a situation must seem very dangerous. I will think about the minister's motives later. For now, I need to figure out what Dumbledore wanted with me."

- A phoenix," Richard remarked, looking up at the bird. - A fascinating and very rare specimen of magical fauna. I've heard they can teleport along with a large cargo.

- We wizards say to apparate or transgress," Dumbledore corrected in a calm tone, also looking at the phoenix. - Yes, Fawkes is an amazing bird, and his capabilities are amazing.

The Headmaster turned to Richie again and said:

- Richard, magic power is sometimes intoxicating. It seems that you can do anything and nothing will happen. But it really doesn't.

Richard didn't like where the Headmaster was going with this. It became clear to him that Dumbledore didn't believe in his innocence. He decided to ask a question:

- 'Headmaster Dumbledore, have you been collecting anything?

- 'Yes, my boy,' Dumbledore replied. - 'I adore sweets and hope to try them all that exist in the world.

- And I love comic books, sir. They're the kind of picture books with fabulous stories about people with supernatural powers or fantastic devices.

- I know what comic books are," the principal said.

- When I learnt about the magical world, I decided to make a collection of items that were owned by comic book characters. That's why the magic workshop was created. Just a collection, sir, nothing more. So the minister's accusation is as much news to me as it is to you. Don't try to lecture me, Director. To me, losing part of the collection is like losing your sweets. You can live, but it's not pleasant.

- Well, Mr Grosvenor, I do hope the Muggles don't steal from you again," the Headmaster said, looking at the boy with a hard look.

- I hope so too.

Richie pulled a dazzling smile onto his face. He did it with great difficulty. The boy felt the inner tension and feared the headmaster as any adequate person who is in the company of a lunatic would.

- Well, I won't detain you with old grouchiness, - said the director. - Go, my boy, and don't mess about. Use your toys wisely and don't scatter them in the corridors....

- Good day, sir. Thank you for a pleasant conversation.

Richard struggled to keep his posture straight and unruffled. It was only when he had left the headmaster's office and had travelled a decent distance from him that he gave himself some slack.

A herd of goosebumps ran through his body, his muscles suddenly felt woozy, and his limbs felt heavy, as if sandbags had been strapped to his arms and legs. Richard hunched over as if he'd been sucked out of a balloon. His heart pounded frantically in his chest, his head throbbed with a migraine, and it was hard to breathe.

The young lord leaned back against the cold wall and tried to collect his thoughts, but his head refused to think after the stress he'd been through.

With a fist of will, Richie made his way to the hospital wing.

Richard was certain that Dumbledore knew much more about Grosvenor's workshop than ordinary wizards. Therefore, there was no doubt that the Headmaster had long ago guessed the identity of the troll's victor. His blatant allusion to the toys in the corridor... Few would not have realised that he was referring to the robot's torn off tentacles.

"The old man is very difficult and dangerous, like any madman," Richard thought on his way to the healer. - You either have to kill him in a crowd, or you have to reckon with him and dance to his tune. And what a convenient situation with Fudge... It went too well for Dumbledore, but too badly for me. Now I've got the Minister of Magic against me. It looks like a "divide and conquer" setup, as if someone deliberately led the Minister to the idea of arresting me in order to put Fudge at odds with the Grosvenors and, consequently, with the royal family, i.e. with the British government. I feel, I feel with every fibre of my being, that Dumbledore's beard is behind everything. But I can't put the feeling to the case, everything is so smooth that there is no evidence".

The school healer, Poppy Pomfrey, a blue-eyed middle-aged woman in a purple dress with a white apron over it and a white bonnet on her head, saw Grosvenor's condition and immediately fussed. She gave the boy a soothing and strengthening potion, then laid him on a hospital bed and ordered him to rest.

Richard felt a little better after taking the potions. His head cleared up and he continued to ponder.

"Fudge is an idiot! If he had approached me directly with that letter, things might have been different. Fool! If the Minister had only hinted to me about possible legal problems, he could have twisted ropes from me. I would have had no problem paying a decent bribe, and I could have filled the minister's pockets on a regular basis. Is he really so stupid that he can't see the obvious?"

Richard had a reasonable doubt that Fudge was not taking bribes. After all, it was well known that Lucius Malfoy put at least five hundred galleons into the minister's pocket every year. And here we could be talking about tens of thousands of gold coins.

This again suggested that the whole situation had been deliberately set up and played out like a play-by-play. Someone with power in the magical world. Someone with a taste for intrigue and manipulation. Which brings us back to the Doctor's characterisation of Dumbledore.

The hospital wing of Hogwarts is of a decent size. It occupies several rooms, one of which is quite large and serves as an infirmary. The single beds are separated from each other by screens.

There is also a treatment room, a shared toilet for both boys and girls, a shower room for one patient, and a room where the healer lives.

When Madame Pomfrey retired to her bedroom, Richard used one of the functions of the charms that Madame Marchbanks used to connect the boy to the house elf. The idea is that the house servant can sense where the master is and hear a call from the master. There are rare places from which such a call cannot be sent and where house elves cannot move, such as Azkaban or the Ministry of Magic. But not Hogwarts. After all, house elves live and work at the school - it's home to their largest community in the UK. Spells that prevented them from travelling would prevent the house elves from doing their jobs: teleporting food and dishes without anyone noticing, picking up students' laundry and the like.

- Donkey," Richard called out.

With a soft clap, the house elf appeared beside the hospital bed where Grosvenor Junior lay. His appearance, by wizarding standards, was surprisingly odd: an expensive black three-piece suit, snow-white shirt and tie. All the clothes were clean, ironed and perfectly fitted. The lacquered shoes glistened so that one could see one's reflection in them as if in a mirror.

- Did the lord call for Donkey? - The houseboy asked in a prim tone.

- Greetings, Donkey," Richard said quietly, so as not to attract the healer's attention. - Don't make a fuss. Better tell me, who in our workshop is snitching to the Ministry of Magic?

- The wizards Dylan McDougal and Caleb Sonder," the houseboy said without hesitation.

- What dirt do you have on them?

- Lord," the house elf bowed low, "Donkey has gathered enough dirt on all the wizards. Mr MacDougal stole a total of one hundred and eighty galleons, five shekels and three knaths worth of ingredients from the workshop. Mr Sonder stole fifty grams of gold, a ten gallon cauldron, one enchanted ninja suit and a metre of dragon skin. I have collodographs of all the thefts.

- That's great! That's just great! - Richard's mood has improved. - Donkey, pass on all information about the thefts of these two wizards to Mr Arthur Weasley. I won't keep you any longer.

As soon as the houseboy disappeared with a pop, Richie pulled out a magophone. After pressing the call button a short while later, Arthur Weasley's joyful voice came through the speaker:

- Lord Grosvenor, it's good to hear from you.

- Good afternoon, Mr Weasley. I have an urgent errand for you.

- I am listening attentively, Lord," Arthur replied.

- I have just received reports that some of our staff are stealing large quantities of my property. I have sent you a house elf with evidence and collodographs of the thefts.

- Sir, who are these wizards?! - Arthur exclaimed indignantly.

- Dylan McDougal and Caleb Sonder," Richard replied. - Mr Weasley, I want these wizards punished to the full extent of the law for the sake of others. Firing them without severance pay won't be enough for me. File a report with the magical law enforcement authorities with all the evidence.

- Lord, but they'll be put in Azkaban," Mr Weasley said in a worried tone.

- A thief should be in prison! - Richard said firmly. - Do you agree with that, Mr Weasley?

- Yes, but they have wives, children...

- You should have thought about wives and children before you went up against Grosvenor," Richard retorted. - Mr Weasley, those wizards tried to imprison me by false denunciation to the Minister of Magic to cover up the theft. Are you really going to sympathise with such scum?

- How?!" Mr Weasley was inordinately amazed. - A denunciation on you, Lord? After they've been stealing from you? And on such good wages...

- The Minister came to me today in a company of Aurors and tried to arrest me, shoving a parchment with a denunciation from those wizards in my face. A parchment describing me as a villain worse than You-Know-Who... Naturally, the Minister was unsuccessful... Mr Weasley, can I rely on you?

- Lord," Arthur's voice was full of righteous indignation, "I resent the actions of Dylan and Caleb. How dare they?! Sir, rest assured, they will be held accountable!

- Thank you, Mr Weasley. I'm relying on you.