"Very well, Megan. The weather today is perfectly suited for sending an owl. Might you be so kind as to direct me to the owlery?"
"You need the owlery?" Megan asked. "There's plenty of time before breakfast — come on, I'll show you the way."
"That would be most gracious of you, Megan. I should be greatly obliged."
The owlery, as one might easily guess, was located in the attic. Though in truth, Richie would never have found the correct tower on his own.
The circular chamber, with its glassless windows, contained numerous alcoves in which owls perched, hooting loudly and rustling their feathers.
The letters — one for his father, complete with a wizardphone tube, and enclosed correspondence for the intelligence liaison and Scott Potter — were sent via Darth Vader, who had arrived at the school under his own power. To send the letter to Arthur Weasley, however, Richard had to make use of one of the school owls.
By the time Megan and Richard returned to the Hufflepuff dormitory, Truman had already gathered all the drowsy first-years in the common room.
"Grosvenor, where have you been?" the prefect demanded. "You're the only one we're waiting on."
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Richard inclined his head politely. "Mr Truman, I was attending to my correspondence. Miss Jones was kind enough to escort me to the owlery. I trust you will forgive my tardiness."
"Very well," the prefect relented. "Listen carefully. If anyone has forgotten, Headmaster Dumbledore mentioned yesterday that the third-floor corridor in the north wing is out of bounds — which means you are not to go there under any circumstances, no matter how curious you may feel. Is that understood?"
He waited until all the first-years nodded or voiced their agreement, then continued:
"For the first few days, I'll be escorting you to your lessons. I trust you can find your way to the Great Hall — it's not far. Further down the corridor from the common room is the kitchen. If you're hungry, you may go there and ask for something to eat. To enter, stand in front of the fruit still life and tickle the pear — it will turn into a door handle. House-elves work in the kitchen. Do not be alarmed by their appearance, and do not insult them. Treat them with respect."
Truman cast a critical eye over the first-years and made a few remarks about some of their appearances. The children hastily adjusted their clothing and tidied their hair.
"After breakfast, you are to return to the common room on your own and collect your timetables from me. Use them to prepare your bags with the necessary textbooks. Do not forget ink, quills, and parchment. And one more thing — our House is one large family. Do not hesitate to ask older students for assistance. Try to avoid conflicts with students from other Houses. Do not accept sweets or drinks from anyone. Some students may slip in potions as a joke, the effects of which you will not enjoy. Now, pair up and follow me to breakfast."
The first lesson for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw first-years was Herbology. For this, the students had to make their way to the greenhouses near the castle. The class was taught by the Head of Hufflepuff — a kind-hearted, slightly plump woman with greying hair. Her robes and pointed hat were somewhat worn. As Richard surmised, this was her working attire, better suited for digging in the soil. Pomona Sprout quickly endeared herself to the students; she spoke engagingly about both magical and ordinary plants, never scolded anyone, and was always ready to help.
For the second lesson, the Hufflepuff prefect led the students down into the castle's dungeons.
The pupils took their places at the tables in the Potions classroom. They were required to pair up, and Richie sat beside Justin.
After setting down his belongings, Richard made his way towards the Ravenclaw students.
There were exactly as many Ravenclaw first-years as there were Hufflepuffs — six in total. However, they had one more girl and one fewer boy.
Two girls sat at the far desk, whispering to one another. Mandy Brocklehurst — an entirely unremarkable, slightly plump girl with a round face — and Lisa Turpin — a slender Irish girl with chestnut hair and moss-green eyes.
Beside Padma Patil, Terry Boot was arranging his writing materials — a slightly stooped boy of sturdy build, with brown eyes and brown hair.
The third desk was occupied by Michael Corner — a dark-haired, brown-eyed boy with long hair — and Anthony Goldstein — a blond with a short haircut and a heavy jaw.
That made four blond boys out of twelve students, Richard included. An astonishing concentration of fair-haired lads.
"Good morning. You are Padma Patil, I believe? Richard Grosvenor — though you may call me Richie."
"I've heard about you," the Indian girl replied. "You're the one mentioned in the papers — the inventor of some new substance?"
"The substance itself is not new," Richard said mildly. "Graphene has been known to scientists for quite some time, so I cannot claim to have invented it. I merely demonstrated a method by which flakes of it may be obtained. Though, broadly speaking, your understanding is correct."
"A new substance?" Boot perked up. "You actually invented something?"
"You're Terry, aren't you?" Richard asked.
"Yes — and you're Richie. I've heard."
"Terry, let's just say I was bored and sprinkled a bit of graphite from a pencil onto some adhesive tape, then repeatedly folded and peeled it apart. In the end, examination under an electron microscope revealed flakes of graphene—a one-atom-thick carbon structure as strong as diamond. A most promising material."
"And could it be created using magic?" Boot asked thoughtfully. "There is Transfiguration, after all. If it's just another form of carbon, then surely it should be possible to produce it with magic."
(End of Chapter)
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