"Let's start with the fact that the last aristocrat bearing the surname Riddle died in the forties without leaving any legitimate heirs. Tom Riddle is an impostor! The Crown never granted that terrorist the title of Lord. "
"But that's a magical title…" Granger began uncertainly.
"No, Hermione! That's not how it works. The title of Lord in Great Britain can only be granted by the Queen or inherited. Riddle is, at best, an unrecognized bastard, so he's out of luck with any title—like a witch on a broom. Riddle is an impostor, period."
"What does some Riddle have to do with anything?" Hermione asked in confusion.
Harry and Justin remained silent, but judging by the solidarity they showed and the curiosity on his face, Finch Fletchley was also eager to hear the answer to that question.
Richie enlightened his companions:
"Tom Riddle, known as the self-proclaimed Dark Lord and You-Know-Who—the leader of a terrorist organization of British far-right wizards, who died in the autumn of eighty-one, allegedly from the Unforgivable Curse Avada Kedavra, reflected off Harry Potter's forehead."
"Wow!" Finch-Fletchley blurted out. He patted Potter on the shoulder and added, "I'm sorry, Harry. I wouldn't wish that kind of fame on anyone."
"Richie, how do you know this wizard's name?" Hermione asked in astonishment.
"The Queen told me."
"Mm… I see. If the Queen herself… But is what's written about Harry not true?"
"I'm not sure,"Richard shrugged. "My charms tutor said that magic can do anything. I've had time to convince myself that's true. So," he shifted to a joking tone, "Harry, if you ever get hit with an Avada again, just deflect it with your forehead! It must be Avada-proof!"
Potter grimaced and replied:
"Uncle Scott said that Avada is lethal in one hundred percent of cases. There's no defense against it except dodging or hiding behind cover. Guys, let's not talk about that."
"Alright,"Hermione backed down. "Boys, better tell me why you don't have any luggage."
"Didn't Richie tell you?" Justin asked in surprise.
"No," Granger shook her head.
"We bought bags in a magical shop," Finch-Fletchley explained. "They can hold far more than they should. And the contents don't weigh anything."
"Wow!"
Hermione's eyes lit up with eager interest. It was quite obvious that, like any girl, she dreamed of a truly bottomless bag. Though ordinary women's handbags often seemed to possess that very quality—one could find all manner of unexpected things inside, from bricks and power drills to pepper spray, an enormous supply of cosmetics, and countless other items.
"I didn't see such a shop in Diagon Alley."
Justin began explaining to Hermione where and what could be bought in the wizarding world.
Thus, absorbed in conversation, time flew by unnoticed. A train whistle sounded, announcing the imminent departure of the train. Almost simultaneously, a head of red hair appeared in the vestibule. A slightly out-of-breath boy in a brand-new brown suit of an old-fashioned cut peeked into the compartment. His face lit up with recognition.
"Lord Grosvenor!"
"Hi!" Richard smiled and waved to the redhead. "Ron, come join us."
"Um… thanks."
"Ron, we agreed you'd just call me Richie," Richard said amicably. "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce this young gentleman—Ron Weasley. His father holds a very important position in the Ministry of Magic and manages my magical enterprise for experimental enchantments."
"An enterprise?"Hermione once again stared at Richard in astonishment since their meeting. "Richie, didn't you say you only recently learned about the wizarding world?"
"Depends on how you look at it. A year and a half is quite a long time, if you ask me. Of course, I had to hustle like a sinner on a frying pan, but I managed to set up a small business among wizards."
Ron hesitated for a moment in the doorway, then, overcoming his shyness, stepped into the compartment.
"Ron," Richard continued the introductions, "let me present the others. This lovely young lady is Hermione Granger. Her parents are something like healers—they treat the teeth of ordinary people. That gentleman in the corner is Justin Finch-Fletchley, a future lord and banker. And this modest gentleman in the cap is Harry Potter."
"Harry Potter?!" Weasley exclaimed in astonishment.
Ron stole a glance at Harry, but immediately turned his gaze toward the window, pretending disinterest. In truth, the boy was bursting with the desire to ask the famous hero of the wizarding world a whole host of questions.
"Ron," Richard said, "don't tell me you're a Harry fan too."
Hermione blushed in embarrassment and began studying the tabletop as though she had found something fascinating there.
"No, not really…" Ron drawled. "I've just heard a lot about him from my parents. Oh—sorry," He turned to Harry. "Mum would scold me for being rude. Harry, Justin, Hermione, nice to meet you."
No sooner had Ron sat down beside Richard than two identical heads with red hair and freckled faces appeared in the doorway. The boys looked about thirteen. They were dressed in well-made suits, likely tailored by hand—or perhaps by magic.
"Ron, there you are!"said the one on the right. "Hi, everyone. I'm Fred, and this is George."
(End of Chapter)
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