"Modest," the Deputy Minister observed. "At eighty percent capacity, you'd recover your investment in about five years."
"I'm in no hurry, Mr. Wickham," Richie replied. "Besides, you're not entirely correct. Don't let the grace period mislead you. The actual payback period for this project is only a couple of years, because generating electricity through cold fusion is extremely inexpensive. And on top of that, this is merely a pilot power station, so its output is intentionally rather modest."
"I understand." Wickham nodded before asking in a meaningful tone, "Is it true that part of G Electrics belongs to Her Majesty?"
"Without the slightest doubt, Mr. Wickham," Richard replied calmly. Then, with a hint of irony, he continued, "That information is a matter of public record..." Narrowing his eyes with a knowing smile, he added, "After all, who else would allow me to build an experimental power plant almost in the very heart of London on Windsor land?"
"My apologies," the Deputy Minister said slowly. "I... I understand."
"Not quite everything, Mr. Wickham," Richard continued pointedly. "Your immediate superior has expressed a desire to retire in the near future, given his advanced age. I rather doubt Sir Major will have any objections to your being appointed to the position."
The Deputy Minister stumbled mid-step and came to an abrupt halt. Looking down at the boy, he wore an expression of overwhelming surprise and delight.
"Thank you, my Lord," the stunned Wickham managed to say.
"Mr. Wickham, so there are no misunderstandings between us," Richard said, "I wasn't the one who recommended you for the post of Minister. But I wholeheartedly supported your candidacy. I hope our cooperation will prove fruitful."
***
The summer flew by in the blink of an eye. On the first of September, Richie climbed with obvious relief into the second-to-last carriage of the Hogwarts Express, where the second-years traditionally rode. He didn't have to wait long for familiar faces. The first to peer into the compartment was Harry.
Potter's hair was even more tousled than usual, and his glasses sat crooked on his face. He looked like a mad scientist.
"Richie, you're already here!" Harry said cheerfully, straightening his glasses.
"Hello, Harry," Richard greeted his friend. "Come in."
"Yeah, hi." Potter nodded as he sat down opposite him. "What a day!"
"Something happen?" Richard asked.
Harry nodded and began his story.
"Richie, can you believe it? Some bastard put a charm on the barrier between the regular station and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. I ran straight into the pillar headfirst. Good thing Uncle Scott and I got to the station early. We had to go all the way to the Leaky Cauldron and Floo onto the platform from there."
"Did it only happen to you, or everyone?" Richard asked, frowning.
"Looks like it was just me," Harry replied. "I could see other witches and wizards walking through the barrier from the platform. I think it was Dobby."
"Who?"
Richie looked at Harry in confusion.
"Oh, right—I never told you about him!" Harry smacked himself on the forehead, then immediately winced, his collision with the pillar having left its mark. "On my birthday, Uncle Scott and I went back home to London. At first we were going to celebrate in the magical tent, but we decided we needed a bit of a break. Sorry, Richie. If I'd known, I could've come to your birthday party..."
"It's all right," Richard replied. "So, who's Dobby?"
"That's the weirdest part." Harry looked grim. "Uncle went out to buy a birthday cake while I was setting the table. All of a sudden, this strange house-elf burst into the kitchen. He was wearing a filthy old towel that looked more like a bundle a rag. And he had this crazed, fanatical look in his eyes. Compared to Dobby, Donky looked perfectly sane. This elf seemed like a complete psychopath and a stalker. Can you believe the little big-eared menace actually admitted he'd been stealing my mail? He demanded that I not go back to Hogwarts! The little bastard threatened me, saying that if I went back to Hogwarts, I'd be in mortal danger."
"That's odd." Richard thoughtfully ran the back of his hand along his chin. "One of two things is going on: either someone sent that house-elf after you, or he's completely lost his mind. Madam Marchbanks once told me about insane house-elves. Nothing good ever comes of them. The moment you run into one, you should kill it on the spot. Otherwise, it may very well murder the wizard it's fixated on."
"I was ready to," Harry muttered darkly. "Especially after Dobby grabbed my wand and used Levitation to smash every dish in the flat before dropping my wand and Apparating away. Not long afterward, I got a letter from the Ministry warning me that one more violation would get me expelled from Hogwarts."
"Harry, don't worry about that," Richard said. "I'll speak to the Minister. She'll sort everything out."
"Thanks, Richie, but there's no need." Potter shook his head, making his already unruly hair stick out even more. "When Uncle Scott came back, I told him everything. He figured Sirius Black must have sent the house-elf after me. Uncle and I went straight to see the Minister. Uncle explained the whole situation to Madam Bagnold, and she immediately ordered the warning rescinded. She also told me that if I ever encountered the elf again, I shouldn't hesitate—I should disable it by any means necessary, even if that meant using an Unforgivable Curse."
"She actually said that?" Richard asked, raising his eyebrows in astonishment. "An Unforgivable?"
"She was joking." Potter shrugged. "At least, I think she was. Madam Bagnold sounded pretty amused when she mentioned the Unforgivables."
"Ah, that makes sense." Richard let out a relieved sigh. "Millicent does have a sense of humor. A rare gift in a woman. So, Harry, how's your investigation going?"
"We've uncovered quite a bit about Black," Potter said, visibly brightening. "It took a massive investigation and interviews with dozens of witches and wizards."
"Get to the point."
"We discovered," Potter continued, "that Sirius Black was my father's best friend."
"I already know that," Richard said. "Millicent told me."
"Really?" Harry looked mildly surprised. "Well, I've still got something that should surprise you. My father was also close friends with Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin."
"Pettigrew was murdered by Black." Richard nodded.
Harry grinned triumphantly and shook his head.
"No, he wasn't!" he exclaimed. "Uncle Scott and I conducted a proper reconstruction of the crime."
"Hmm..." Richard leaned forward with interest. "Harry, you've got my attention."
Potter beamed before continuing.
"According to the Auror Office, Black killed Pettigrew with a Reducto Maxima. All that was left of Peter was a single finger. But Uncle thought that sounded very strange. An explosion like that should leave behind much more of the body. He asked me to study the spell. We made several dummies out in the middle of nowhere, and I cast an enhanced Reductor Curse on them. Then we blew up a few pig carcasses. Every single time, there were plenty of remains left. So Uncle Scott concluded that Pettigrew hadn't died at all. At first, he thought Peter had cut off his own finger and Apparated away."
"That certainly sounds plausible," Richard agreed.
(End of Chapter)
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