"Killed?!" Ernie Macmillan's eyes widened in astonishment as he walked beside Justin.
"What did you expect, Ernie?" Richie replied. "This isn't just anyone's estate—it belongs to a Duke. Our security may not be quite on par with the Queen's, but after… an incident"—Richie winced slightly at the memory of his "duel" with that inept fencer—"and after learning what wizards are capable of, my father strengthened it considerably. Surveillance cameras, motion sensors, thermal imaging—and squibs among the staff, so that any would-be magical terrorists can't simply fool the guards."
Justin gave a low whistle.
"Blimey! Richie, I never noticed anything like that at your place."
"Exactly," Richie replied. "Good security is meant to be invisible. Even Professor McGonagall noticed nothing beyond the guards at the gates—and all the while, a professional marksman had her in his sights from a concealed recess."
"Richie, do you actually have secret passages in your house?" Justin asked, still astonished.
"Justin, our estate was built over two centuries ago. The first Duke of Westminster took his security seriously. Back then, crossbowmen stood hidden in the recesses; now the guards carry pistols. The principle, however, remains the same. It's no different at a royal reception — you may stand there calmly, noticing nothing at all, but try anything against Her Majesty and you wouldn't stand a chance."
Padma, still interested in the matter of magic during the holidays, steered the conversation back:
"Richie, you said you're not allowed to use a wand. But can you brew potions?"
"Potions are allowed," Richard nodded. "You can also use magic without a wand."
"And what if someone else casts magic?" Padma continued.
"Then you're out of luck," Grosvenor replied. "You'll have to prove it wasn't you — which is always a challenge."
"And what if I use a wand somewhere no wizard lives—or, on the contrary, somewhere full of them?" Padma asked.
"Cast away to your heart's content," Richie said. "Just not in front of wizards. In magical communities, monitoring charms are useless—they'd react to every single spell. And you can't exactly blanket an entire country with detection charms, nor station a magical policeman on every corner."
"So," Justin said slowly, "children from pure-blood families can use magic during the holidays?"
"They can."
"They can?" he repeated.
"They can!"
"That's not fair!" Justin frowned.
"Justin, my friend," Richard said calmly, "is life ever fair? Some are born with a silver spoon in their mouth; others don't know whether they'll have a crust of bread for breakfast. Why are you clinging to this peasant fantasy—'fairness'? It doesn't exist, and it never has."
"Hold on!" Macmillan exclaimed, thoroughly taken aback. "Richie, you talk about the Queen's security so casually—it's as if you've actually seen Her Majesty."
"Well, yes," Richard shrugged. "How else should I speak of it? I see Granny Liz about ten times a year—birthdays, Christmas dinner, charity receptions. Though this year I'll have to miss quite a few events because of school."
"Granny Liz?!" Macmillan's voice climbed to near hysteria. "GRANNY LIZ?!"
Richie rolled his eyes theatrically.
"Ernie, we've been sharing a dormitory for two months, and only now has it dawned on you that I'm on familiar terms with the royal family… Did it not strike you as odd that I'm a Count at such a young age?"
"Merlin…" Macmillan breathed. "Richie, you must realise—it's difficult to believe something like that… Take Malfoy, for example—he's a Lord too, but he can't boast of having seen the Queen."
"Ernie, to begin with, only Lucius Malfoy is a Lord," Richard corrected him. "Draco is still a commoner and will remain so until his father dies, at which point he'll inherit the title of Baron. And secondly—who would ever let a terrorist near the Queen? Malfoy should be grateful he enjoys his freedom and doesn't attract the monarch's attention."
"But can a Muggle queen really do anything to wizards?" Macmillan asked.
"Ernie, what do you think?" Richie replied. "Queen Victoria was friends with Evangeline Orpington, who rather suddenly became Minister for Magic at the end of the nineteenth century. And if Madam Marchbanks is to be believed, Elizabeth II's grandmother—Mary of Teck—once took a dislike to the sitting Minister for Magic, the one who passed a law forbidding aid to Muggles during the First World War. He remained in office from 1912 to 1923—and then suddenly vanished without a trace. After that, the post was taken by a rather ineffectual eccentric who communicated by emitting smoke from his wand."
"Ah…" Padma sighed dreamily. "I'd love to visit a royal palace."
"That can be arranged," Richard said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "From time to time, the Queen invites industrialists to the palace to foster closer dialogue. Though lately, she's been somewhat cool towards them."
"Why?" Padma asked, brimming with curiosity.
"Once, during a reception, it began to rain," Richie said. "A dozen industrialist guests who had been in the garden took shelter under a canopy where Her Majesty was having tea. When they dispersed, the staff discovered that several seventeenth-century silver utensils were missing. Granny was quite upset—it was her favourite tea service. The spoons were never recovered, and the matter left a lingering bitterness."
Padma burst into bright, melodic laughter.
"Richie, I promise we won't steal the Queen's silverware," she said cheerfully.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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