In any case, Richard had no intention of allowing an unknown dark wizard to grow stronger—one who might well be capable of destroying the world. That was precisely why Count Grosvenor so readily agreed to the theft of the Stone.
And, of course, he was not entirely free of selfish motives. Richard did not particularly care for gold—he could obtain as much as he pleased by trading in non-ferrous metals(iridium, palladium). The Elixir of Life, however, would be far more useful. Until the full integration of nanorobotics and genetic engineering into medicine—technologies that might one day allow a wealthy man to live for a thousand years—there were still at least a couple of centuries to go. And he very much wanted to live. Richard felt no shame in admitting to himself that he wished to live long and happily. Who didn't? It was unlikely such a person even existed—and if they did… well, psychiatrists did say there were no truly healthy people, only those insufficiently examined.
But there was one significant problem in this entire affair with the Philosopher's Stone—it could not be entrusted to anyone. Not to anyone at all!
The Philosopher's Stone was such a valuable and coveted object that nearly everyone would desire to possess it. That meant he could not simply hire mercenaries and send them to steal it. Nor could he assemble a large group of well-meaning enthusiasts under the banner of "saving the Stone" and use them as pawns—the secret would quickly cease to be a secret, and a full-scale hunt for the Stone would begin. That left only one option: to take matters into his own hands and ensure the secrecy of the operation. Which meant persuading Harry and Ron, by any means necessary, to keep silent about the Philosopher's Stone—and nudging Harry towards the idea of "saving it from a villain," but not handing it over to anyone (save, perhaps, to Richard himself "for safekeeping").
Ron required no persuasion—the gleam in his eyes made that perfectly clear. And convincing Potter would not be difficult either; after all, there was a reason young lord had been tutored in rhetoric. The real problem lay elsewhere—how to carry out the theft without being caught, and without leaving any trace that might lead Dumbledore back to them. That was no trivial puzzle.
"Lads," Richard said, "don't you think discussing such matters in the corridor is rather unsafe?"
"Oh—right," Ron agreed.
"We should find an empty classroom," Harry suggested.
"Exactly," Richard said. "And you'll need a means of communication, Harry. Ron already has a wizardphone, and so do I. Give me a moment—I'll fetch one for you."
Richie returned to the dormitory, retrieved one of the two spare wizardphones from his satchel, and, upon returning to the corridor, handed it to Harry Potter.
There were a great many abandoned classrooms and rooms in Hogwarts. Presumably, far more people had once lived here—not only wizards. From the history of magic, it was known that goblins and house-elves had appeared in this world some six hundred years ago, whereas the castle itself was over a thousand years old. Simple logic suggested that, at one time, young wizards must have been served by ordinary people or Squibs. Perhaps there had also been more subjects, more professors, and consequently more classrooms. One might infer as much from the fact that wizards in the past created new magical creatures—and there were ghosts drifting through the castle as well. All of which subtly hinted at the existence of disciplines such as chimerology and necromancy.
Richard spoke as he never had before, almost as if he were the very god of rhetoric. The boy drew upon every skill of persuasion he had picked up from the top managers of the Grosvenor Group and from his negotiations with major business partners.
Ronald required no convincing; his weakness had been identified almost instantly—greed, the desire for wealth, despite the fact that his family was no longer poor. But persuading Harry Potter—not only to save (that is, steal) the Philosopher's Stone so it would not fall into the wrong hands, but also to keep it for themselves—required considerably more effort. In the end, however, the boys agreed to keep everything secret and to wait for a suitable opportunity to enter the forbidden corridor.
After speaking with Harry and Ron, Richard made his way towards Ravenclaw Tower. He climbed to the top and stopped before a door with neither handle nor keyhole—only a smooth panel of ancient wood and a bronze knocker shaped like an eagle.
Extending his aristocratically pale hand, Richard struck the knocker once. The soft knock sounded unnaturally loud. The eagle's beak opened, and instead of a screech, a gentle, melodious female voice issued forth:
"What is heavier—a pound of feathers or a pound of iron?"
"Neither," Richard replied without hesitation. "They weigh the same."
At once, the door swung open invitingly.
The Ravenclaw common room was a large, circular chamber. The walls of the spacious room were set with elegant arched windows, draped in silk curtains shimmering in blue and bronze. From here, the students had a splendid view of the mountains surrounding the school. The domed ceiling was painted with stars, mirroring those set into the ultramarine floor. There were tables, armchairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the entrance stood a statue of white marble.
By simple deduction, Richard immediately realised that the statue depicted Rowena Ravenclaw. There was something faintly unsettling in the beauty of the marble woman, who gazed upon the room with a mysterious half-smile. Atop her head rested an elegant diadem, exquisitely rendered in marble. Upon it was engraved the phrase:
Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure.
The common room was filled with students. Most of them turned to stare at Richard in astonishment.
A brown-eyed blonde fifth-year, whom Richard recognised as Ravenclaw's prefect, Penelope Clearwater, approached Grosvenor and asked politely:
"Boy, are you here to visit someone?"
"Good afternoon, Miss Clearwater. Allow me to introduce myself—Richard Grosvenor. In case anyone at Hogwarts is still unaware, though I rather doubt it, I own an experimental charms workshop in which wizards develop new methods of enchantment."
"I've heard of the 'Grosvenor Workshop,'" the prefect said, "but I thought it belonged to your parents."
"No, Miss. Founding the workshop was my idea. With your permission, I would like to make an announcement for those who wish to secure a prestigious, interesting, and well-paid career in magical engineering after graduation."
"Is that true?" Penelope's nostrils flared slightly, like a predator scenting prey.
"Yes, Miss Clearwater," Richard replied politely. "My workshop is expanding rapidly. We are in need of young, active, and talented specialists—not those who wish to idle away their lives for a handful of Knuts in Ministry offices, but wizards who want to advance magical science, uncover the secrets of the universe, and one day travel into space—to other worlds!"
(End of Chapter)
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