"Granny, Harry's parents were wizards. They were killed by a terrorist wizard in eighty-one."
"Ah, Harry Potter! Of course, I remember! That was in your house where the main terrorist wizard from the Death Eaters group died. That… Tom Riddle."
"Harry will be going to Hogwarts with me," Richard noted.
"Hogwarts?" the Queen asked in a cheerful tone, pretending to hear the name for the first time.
"Hogwarts!"
"Hogwarts?!"
"Yes… you know, Granny—Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, a red steam locomotive, people with dreadful taste in clothing, owls, and a crowd of uncontrollable children with supernatural abilities—Hogwarts!"
"Ah, Hogwarts!"
A mischievous smile played across the Queen's face. She was clearly enjoying herself in the company of children.
In general, Richard had noticed that Queen Elizabeth had an excellent sense of humor. She loved to joke and be a bit mischievous among her own people. Naturally, the public saw a completely different side of her.
Harry, meanwhile, stood like a statue and was afraid to move. What was happening before his eyes simply made no sense to him. Every wizard he had encountered during visits to Diagon Alley treated ordinary people with contempt and called them Muggles. At the same time, Potter had tried to find out something—anything—about his parents from the wizards and had repeatedly heard the phrase You-Know-Who. The wizards were terrified of the sorcerer who had killed the boy's parents.
Harry had formed the impression that because of the Statute of Secrecy, none of the ordinary people knew about wizards. And yet it turned out that this was nothing like the truth. The Queen was perfectly aware of the wizarding world. The intelligence services and the highest aristocracy knew about magic. Moreover, the ruler of Great Britain, unlike the wizards with their supernatural abilities, was not afraid of the evil sorcerer at all and calmly called him by name.
Terrorist! Devil grab Hitler by the thigh, as Uncle Scott likes to say! The Queen contemptuously calls the most dangerous wizard an ordinary terrorist. Potter thought. Not the greatest evil in the universe, not the Dark Lord or any of those other titles—but the damn leader of a terrorist organization! Listen to her long enough and you start thinking he's just a common criminal.
"Richie, unfortunately I must be going," the Queen said sincerely. "I slipped away to see you for just a few minutes. Harry, I hope you will remain loyal to the Crown rather than to foolish dogmas."
"Yes, ma'am!" Potter replied enthusiastically. "I'll do my best, Your Majesty!"
Harry watched the departing Queen with an awestruck gaze as she walked away with dignified grace. His friend's voice pulled him back from the sight of the monarch.
"Congratulations, Harry. Now you've met quite a few of the Windsors. With connections like that—and with my patronage—you could have an excellent career ahead of you. For example, in the secret service. With enough effort, you might even earn a noble title."
"Do wizards work as secret agents?" Potter asked in surprise.
"That information isn't public, but it's almost certainly practiced."
Harry loved the James Bond films. Imagining himself in the place of Agent 007, he realized that he wanted to become just as cool.
"Richie, what do I need to do to work in the secret service?"
"After Hogwarts, you'll have to take the school exams for all those years you missed. Ideally, it would also be good to study at a military academy—or at least at a decent university."
"That's probably difficult and expensive, right?"
"No doubt about it. It's certainly difficult and expensive. But practice shows that all the knowledge of middle and high school can be mastered in two or three years. After that, studying at an academy will seem like nothing. And don't worry about the money—the Crown will pay for the education of a promising young man."
Richard winked at Potter.
Harry thought that sounded like a good option. Who knew what awaited him among the wizards? He hadn't heard anything about pensions among them—something Uncle Scott mentioned often. And here he had the patronage of an aristocratic friend, acquaintances with three princes at once, a princess, an entire queen, and a future Lord (Finch-Fletchley). With connections like that, what was he supposed to do among cowardly wizards who couldn't see past their own noses and had abandoned young Harry like unwanted trash on the doorstep of the Dursleys?!
It's decided, Harry thought. I'll definitely become a secret service agent—and an aristocrat! If only to rub it in the Dursleys' faces and show up at their doorstep one day and say: "Address me properly—Sir Harry Potter." To hell with the wizards! They never needed me anyway, but here… here the Queen herself said I could serve the Crown.
***
Richard had been studying stock quotes since early morning, and it had left him in a gloomy mood. In a bad temper, he came downstairs for breakfast.
"Richie, did something happen?" Gerald asked with concern.
A heavy groan escaped the boy's chest.
"It's not proper to talk about such things at the table."
"Sex, money, politics?"
"Two out of three, Dad…" Catching his father's astonished look, Richard added, "And sex has nothing to do with it!"
"Very well. We'll talk after the meal."
(End of Chapter)
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