For the average schoolboy, summer was a time to relax. Hogwarts students also preferred to spend their two-month holiday playing games and doing absolutely nothing. But Richard did not have a single free day throughout July. Running a major business demanded constant attention, and when you also intended to save the world from an apocalypse, there was scarcely a moment left to breathe. Even so, Richie was still a schoolboy. Which meant he also had to complete the summer homework assigned by his professors.
By the time his birthday arrived, Richard had more or less dealt with the most pressing matters.
Harry Potter had gone to Scotland with Scott. One might have assumed they were on holiday, but that wasn't the case. Scott was continuing his search for Sirius Black, following every possible lead. At the moment, for example, the Potters were in Hogsmeade, questioning every witch and wizard they could find.
Scott had taken the threat to his nephew very seriously. He dragged Harry all over the country with him, teaching the boy the finer points of detective work while involving him in the investigation.
The wizarding community was more than willing to share almost any information with the famous young hero, and the detective shamelessly took advantage of that fact. Thanks to both his age and his adventurous nature, Harry regarded the whole affair as an exciting escapade and thoroughly enjoyed traveling with his uncle.
Richard's birthday passed quietly and without incident this time. No visiting wizards, apart from his bodyguard and Justin. Harry congratulated Richard over the wizardphone and regretfully explained that he wouldn't be able to come because he would be celebrating his own birthday with his uncle. The boys exchanged presents by owl.
Richard's birthday celebration itself was modest, held in a close family circle: only a couple of dozen aristocrats—which, for an occasion like this, was practically nothing.
At the beginning of August, Richie finally found time to tackle his holiday assignments. For an entire week, he vanished from the rest of the world.
Soon afterward, a letter arrived from Hogwarts. Richard had no desire to make the trip to Diagon Alley. After spending an entire week buried in paperwork, he also had a backlog of important matters waiting for him at the office.
So Richie sent an owl to Arthur Weasley, asking him to buy the books and potion ingredients on the school list. He enclosed a small pouch of Galleons with the letter. Richard reasoned that Arthur would be taking his family to Diagon Alley anyway. What difference did it make whether he bought everything in five sets or six, especially if it meant doing his boss a favor?
That was one of the great advantages of owning a large business: you didn't have to do everything yourself. In fact, trying to do so was positively counterproductive. The key was knowing how to choose capable managers, delegate effectively, and ensure your instructions were carried out properly.
As for new robes, those could wait until a free gap appeared in his crowded schedule. If there was one thing Richard wasn't prepared to entrust to anyone else, it was choosing his clothes. Besides, he intended to place another order with Madam Malkin for unicorn-wool underwear for himself and his father, along with socks, a set of thermal undergarments made from the same material—long johns and a long-sleeved undershirt—and a few other odds and ends.
Once his homework was finally out of the way, Richie headed for Battersea in south London. There, on the southern bank of the Thames, stood the decommissioned Battersea coal-fired power station. It consisted of two major buildings. The first, Station A, had been built back in 1933 and closed in 1975. The second, Station B, had entered service in 1953 and ceased operations in 1983. The entire power station had since been decommissioned and was awaiting redevelopment. In all likelihood, both buildings might have continued waiting another thirty or forty years—perhaps even half a century.
Both stations had been built to the same design, creating the famous four-chimney layout: a rectangular structure with enormous smokestacks rising from each corner like the towers of a castle. The buildings were constructed from brick, with exceptionally thick walls. After years of abandonment, not a single window remained intact in either structure.
Richard toured the abandoned power station as part of an expert commission. The commission was headed by John Wickham, one of the Deputy Ministers of Energy.
Mr. Wickham was an enormous man, easily six feet seven. Lean, yet athletic and fit. Standing beside him, Richard, at four foot seven, seemed positively tiny. Despite being fifty years old, John had retained a full head of hair—thick, though completely silver. His face was marked by premature wrinkles, while his pale blue eyes studied the remains of the power station with keen interest.
Richard politely asked his companion,
"What do you think, Mr. Wickham?"
"The structural engineers tell me," the Deputy Minister began, "that the condition of the walls is nearly ideal. They built things to last in those days. Just look at them, Lord Grosvenor—the station's walls are three feet three inches thick."
"So the walls can stay?" Richard asked.
"Yes." The Deputy Minister nodded. "You'll only need to demolish the chimneys and patch the roof where they stood. Then, of course, carry out a full refurbishment, replace the windows, install modern equipment, and connect the building to the high-voltage grid."
Richard wandered over to the nearest of the four boiler houses, studying it with curiosity. He inspected the structure while estimating whether it could realistically be restored using magic. Presumably, it could—but only after an expert wizard had assessed it. Once the boiler houses were restored, they could be fueled with magical fire and generate practically free electricity.
"I don't think we'll need to demolish the smokestacks," Richard said. "They won't get in our way. I'd rather not spoil the appearance of a historic building."
"If you wish to preserve them..." the Deputy Minister replied thoughtfully. "That's entirely your prerogative. So, does this power station meet your requirements?"
"Yes, Mr. Wickham, it does." Richard nodded. "I'll be renovating both buildings."
Several building inspectors disturbed a thick layer of dust, sending a cloud billowing into the air until it filled a good portion of the vast interior.
"Ahem..." Wickham coughed. "Bloody dust! Ah—my apologies." He looked at Richard apologetically.
"It's quite all right, sir," Richie replied.
"Forgive me, Lord Grosvenor," the Deputy Minister continued. "Are you truly planning to build an innovative environmentally friendly power plant?"
"Absolutely, Mr. Wickham," Richie answered. "The latest classified British technology based on cold fusion, which produces no radioactive decay products whatsoever. In other words, no radiation. Even if the reactor were to fail, there would be no explosion and no environmental damage. We expect to get at least one gigawatt out of these stations. The specialists will be able to provide a more precise figure."
(End of Chapter)
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