"We have ideas, O greatest of Lords!" Fred intoned as if in prayer.
"Yes, yes, sir! Ideas for a future business," George echoed. "We even have some magical developments."
To this Richard replied:
"If you have ideas, come to me and share them. If they're worthwhile, I'll be ready to become your investor. Or, alternatively, you could work as magical engineers in my enterprise with a very good salary. And if your developments turn out to be truly exceptional, you'll receive a share of the business. Think about that last option—it'll be far more profitable than any business in the wizarding world."
The Weasley twins made playful attempts to kiss Grosvenor's shoes, which drew smiles from both Richard and Hermione. Barely fending them off, the young count made his way into the vestibule and, together with his friend, continued back toward their compartment.
Richie and Hermione returned to the last carriage already in the dark, just as the Hogwarts Express began to slow down.
Richard was surprised to notice the swelling under Ron's left eye and the scraped knuckles on Harry's right hand.
"Did you get into a fight with someone?" Richard asked.
"Yeah, three guys came by…" Harry waved his right hand dismissively.
"Malfoy and his cronies," Ron hissed angrily. "They barged in and immediately started asking, 'Have you seen Harry Potter?' Then that bastard Malfoy started insulting me."
"Yeah," Harry confirmed. "Ron punched Malfoy in the eye. His friends jumped him. I, of course, didn't stay out of it and beat those bastards up—just like Uncle Scott taught me. Tough guys, though! But they couldn't do anything against karate and judo."
"I also socked Crabbe in the face," Justin chimed in. "Three against one—what kind of honor is that? These wizards have no concept of it!"
"Fighting is bad!" Hermione said indignantly, her voice taking on the tone of a strict teacher. "How could you?!"
It was clear from Ron's expression that he was about to say something nasty to the girl. Richard beat the red-haired boy to it.
"Hermione, remember this for the rest of your life: for boys, fighting is a completely normal thing. Never lecture boys about fighting if you don't want to turn them against you. You can support them, you can stay silent—but don't say that self-defense and protecting one's honor are wrong. No, no, no! Defending your honor and your friends is sacred."
"Fighting is bad," Hermione insisted, pouting.
"It is," Richard agreed, "but it's worse to show weakness and let people wipe their feet on you. Bend once, and you'll be a doormat for the rest of your life."
"Richie's right," Harry said seriously.
"Yeah," Ron nodded.
"We couldn't just stand by and watch three guys beat up Ron!" Justin added.
"Boys!" Hermione snorted like a cat. "The train is arriving at the station," she added in a strict tone. "You need to change. And so do I, so get out."
"Hermione," Richard said reproachfully, "for all of us, 'changing' means putting on our robes. Listening to you, one would think it was some kind of erotic performance. I don't think anyone needs to leave over something so trivial."
"Hmph!" Hermione lifted her nose.
She understood that Richard was right, but she wasn't willing to admit it.
"By the way, Hermione," Richard continued, "I told you Malfoy's a jerk. Here's a perfect example," he said, pointing at Ron's black eye. "He came in, insulted our friend, and started a fight for no reason. And that's just the beginning—I'm sure there'll be more to come. I've seen plenty of rich brats like that who think they're allowed anything. Where I'm from, we call them rotten sheep."
The Hogwarts Express came to a stop at a station dimly lit by old-fashioned lanterns. The children crowded into the vestibule and poured out in a noisy throng.
Soon the whole group was on the platform. Most of the students hurried toward the carriages. A three-meter-tall bearded giant in a moleskin coat drew a lot of attention. He waved a huge oil lantern and boomed in a deep bass voice:
"First-years, this way!"
Harry Potter grabbed Richard's elbow and said in a frightened voice:
"That's him! Richie, that's the gamekeeper who tore up our tent."
Richard didn't have time to respond before the giant looked directly at the group of first-years—more precisely, at Potter, who tried to hide behind Richie's back.
"Harry. It's… don't be afraid. Back then, it was…" The giant awkwardly ruffled his thick dark hair with a hand the size of a shovel. "A mistake… yeah… I just wanted to congratulate you… who knew you'd get scared? Come here, I won't hurt you."
"No freaking way!" Harry Potter whispered. "Richie, you go first."
"And what, I'm not worth sparing?" Richard said, not hurrying forward. "I'm the sole heir of the Grosvenors—I still have a long life ahead of me."
"He won't touch you, since your uncle didn't shoot at him," Potter whispered.
(End of Chapter)
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