As usual, the Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station late in the evening. All the children returning from the holidays travelled up to the castle in self-moving carriages. Dinner began immediately after their arrival, and the students gathered at the tables of their respective Houses.
Richard noticed out of the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was looking at him with strong disapproval—a cold, narrow-eyed stare. It was the sort of look people gave a venomous and dangerous creature while weighing whether to kill it or leave it alone for fear of being poisoned.
All good humour instantly abandoned young Grosvenor. He realised Dumbledore knew who was responsible for ensuring the three wizards had received exactly what they deserved.
The next day, lessons resumed rather unexpectedly—though that was always the way after holidays.
During lunch, once Richard had finished eating, Harry Potter approached him from the Gryffindor table.
"Hi, Richie. Got a minute?"
"Good afternoon, Harry. Of course. I can always spare time for a friend."
Rising from the table, Richie addressed his classmate.
"Justin, Harry and I are going for a walk. I might be late for History of Magic."
"No problem, Richie," Justin replied with a carefree wave of his hand.
As they headed towards the exit of the Great Hall, Potter remarked with a trace of envy:
"You lot have it good! On our house table, the moment you even mention skipping a lesson, everyone starts nagging you to death. 'Oh no, we'll lose house points…'"
"Our lot couldn't care less about points," Richard replied. "Friendship and hard work come first. Everything else comes second. How were your holidays?"
"Uncle Scott was busy, so I had to stay at Hogwarts," Harry answered sadly. "When Ron found out I'd be staying in the castle, he decided to keep me company. Then his brothers stayed as well, so it wasn't boring. Erm… Richie, there's something…"
"Don't drag it out. I can skip History of Magic at most, but I'd much rather make it to Potions than end up in detention."
Potter smirked.
"I get it. I wouldn't fancy detention with Snape either. Anyway, Richie, I got a strange Christmas present—a Cloak of Invisibility. At first I thought it was from you, right up until Darth Vader brought your version of a ninja suit with activated invisibility."
"Harry, I need details."
Harry Potter pulled a silvery piece of fabric from his bag. It was light, almost weightless, taking up hardly any space at all. It resembled none of the invisibility cloaks Richard had ever seen before. This was a masterpiece—like an intergalactic starship compared to a modern space rocket.
After examining the cloak, Richie handed it back to its owner, who quickly stuffed it into his bag once more.
"There was a note," Potter continued, "saying it was my father's cloak. Apparently, Dad gave it to the sender for safekeeping shortly before he died, and now it's being returned to me."
"Blimey…" Richard stopped short in astonishment. "Harry, do you even realise what that means?"
"What?"
"This person… this wizard… he's indirectly connected to your parents' deaths. Maybe not even indirectly."
Harry frowned darkly, hunching his shoulders. He rubbed the scar on his forehead with his index finger and looked intently at Richard.
"Why do you think that?" he asked.
"Picture that time. A terrorist organisation is running rampant through the wizarding world. As I understand it, your parents were already at risk because your mother was Muggle-born. And during such a dangerous period, when anything capable of protecting one's family is worth its weight in diamonds, your father hands over such a unique Invisibility Cloak to someone else."
"Unique?"
"Yes, Harry. It's perfection itself. I've never seen an Invisibility Cloak of such quality. It could have saved your parents' lives."
Harry Potter clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His face twisted with fury as he hissed quietly:
"Who do you think the bastard is?"
"I have a suspicion…"
"Who?!" Potter whispered furiously.
"Can't you guess?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Dumbledore?!" Harry whispered in shock.
Richard nodded.
"There's no proof, but all the circumstantial evidence points towards him."
"The old bearded bastard," Potter hissed with unimaginable hatred. "I'll kill hi…"
Richie clamped a hand over Harry's mouth, leaned close to his ear, and whispered:
"Quiet. Quiet, Harry. Not here. And in general, get into the habit of not voicing threats out loud, or you'll end up in prison before long. We need proof. What if we're wrong?"
Harry shoved Richard's hand away from his mouth. His nostrils flared angrily, and his eyes were bloodshot with rage.
"What proof?" Potter demanded in a sharp whisper. "Every time something awful happens in my life, Dumbledore's shadow is always there. He's a bastard, a lunatic, a dictator…"
"A madman with a whole collection of quirks who nevertheless occupies important positions. In other words, an ordinary politician," Richard stated calmly. "People like that are exactly the sort who claw their way to power. They're extremely dangerous. I can judge that even by myself. I'm still only a politician in the larval stage, but I already know how to bite. So we'll think of something, Harry. We'll definitely get to the bottom of this. But don't rush headlong into things for now. Revenge is a dish best served cold."
(End of Chapter)
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