"Boys, what's wrong with you?" Hermione looked at Harry and Richie in surprise
"Guys, that's Hagrid!" Ron said, equally astonished. "My brothers told me he's really kind."
"Then you go to him, Ron," Harry suggested.
"We'll have to go anyway," Richard said in a fatalistic tone. "Ah…"
Stumbling along, the group followed the first-years down a dark path toward the lake. Richard quietly retold Ron, Justin, and Hermione the story of Hagrid's visit to Harry Potter. After hearing it, they began to keep their distance from the half-giant too. They were especially struck by the part where the injured giant had growled and crawled toward Harry's uncle—clearly not for a friendly hug.
Hermione whispered to the others:
"I think I would've died on the spot if, instead of Professor McGonagall, a giant like that had burst into my house in the middle of the night and started talking to my parents in a raised voice."
"And all this time he pretended to be a nice guy…" Ron muttered. "That's how you end up trusting people."
The boat ride across the dark lake, the magnificent view of the ancient castle, and the walk through the stone corridors under Professor McGonagall's guidance—after Hagrid handed the children over to her—all passed Richard by. Yes, it was impressive, but all of the boy's attention was focused on the gamekeeper. It's hard to admire beautiful scenery when your nerves are stretched taut as a string.
Only the sudden appearance of ghosts from the walls forced Richard to mobilize his senses and shift his attention to a new threat. A small room, a crowd of children, ghosts, the shrieks of girls… And in such an environment, a thought occurred to him:
Ghosts—or holograms containing a copy of a human mind? If the former, it's a form of immortality, albeit one of its worst manifestations. If the latter…
Hermione tried to stay close to a point of calm. Although she pretended that, unlike the other girls, she wasn't scared at all, she was actually terrified of the ghosts. And there was calm Richie. Before she realized it, Granger had hidden behind Grosvenor's back.
Hermione didn't miss the sudden change in Richard's behavior. He fixed his gaze on the nearest ghost like a seasoned predator and licked his lips in anticipation.
"AIs…" he muttered.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione, what do you think," Richard continued now in a normal tone, "could ghosts be something like solid holograms with a reflection of a person's personality?"
"Maybe… I don't know," Granger shrugged. "But I'll definitely read about them."
"Do," Richard nodded. "Then tell me what you find."
"Richie, aren't you interested in reading about it yourself?" Hermione asked curiously.
"I am, but I doubt I'll have time for it," Grosvenor replied calmly. "I can rely on you for the analysis, right?"
"Uh…" Granger hesitated. "Yes, of course. I'll help you. But what will you be busy with?"
"Studying, business, building connections," Richard listed. "With a schedule like that, there simply won't be time left for additional learning. So I'll need help."
"You can count on me," Granger said firmly.
Hermione was bursting with excitement. For the first time, she felt needed by someone. Her talent, her love of books—could it really be useful… to a friend? She wanted to believe it was.
Suddenly, a flicker of jealousy stirred within Hermione. The cause was a girl with swamp-green eyes, dark chestnut hair, and coarse features. She approached Richie from behind and grabbed his right elbow, since Granger stood on his left.
"Draco, who are you with?" the girl asked.
Richard couldn't fail to notice someone had taken his arm. He turned toward the voice and saw an unfamiliar girl.
"Good evening, miss," he replied. "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Mr. Malfoy is up ahead with his friends."
"You're not Draco!" the girl said, surprised and slightly indignant. "Who are you?"
"We haven't been introduced, miss. Richard Grosvenor."
To Hermione's delight, the girl released Richard's arm as if it were a snake. With a haughty expression, she introduced herself:
"Pansy Parkinson. Are you a pure-blood?"
Richard's face remained politely calm. In an exaggeratedly cold tone, he replied:
"Miss, forgive my bluntness, but I must point out that such questions are considered improper among wizards. If you prefer exclusively the company of pure-bloods, I regret to inform you that my father is an ordinary man."
Hermione brought her hands to her mouth to hide her laughter. An ordinary man… a duke! She hadn't expected a line like that.
"Ugh!" Pansy wiped her hands on her robe in disgust. "How dare you look like my Drakie?!"
"Miss, allow me to note," Grosvenor said, barely suppressing a smile, "that my attire is impeccable, as befits a young gentleman. If you are dissatisfied with the company of a man of my standing, alas, there is nothing I can do. Your choice, miss."
"I wouldn't sit at the same table with someone like you!" Parkinson declared haughtily.
"That is your right, miss," Richard said coolly. "However, I must point out that eating anywhere but at a table is rather inconvenient. Though my grandmother Liza's corgis, on the contrary, quite enjoy eating off the floor…"
(End of Chapter)
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