Richi was certain that Elizabeth II would never approve of an aristocrat of his standing marrying an Indian girl. He himself had no objection whatsoever. Padma might still be a little girl now, but that was one drawback that disappeared with age. She promised to grow into a beautiful young woman, she was by no means lacking in intelligence, and she would almost certainly come with a substantial dowry in the form of a share in a significant family business.
In other words, she was almost from his own social circle, and she was a witch besides. But... she was Indian, with lightly bronzed skin. It was terrifying to imagine the scandal the press would stir up if Richard were to appear in public with such a fiancee. In the future, in an age of universal tolerance, hardly anyone would think twice about it. But not in this era.
"I'm sorry, Padma, but I need to pay Professor McGonagall a visit."
"Has something happened?" the Indian girl asked with concern.
"I need to ask for a day's leave in December. By the way, do you know where Professor McGonagall's office is?"
"On the first floor, in the DADA tower."
"Thank you, Padma."
At the next landing, Richard and Padma went their separate ways.
Before long, Richi was standing outside the office he sought. After knocking, he opened the door slightly.
Minerva McGonagall was seated behind her desk in the spacious office. She looked up from the desktop, which was covered with stacks of parchment.
"Come in."
"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall."
"Is there something you need, Mr. Grosvenor?" the professor asked curtly.
"Yes, Professor McGonagall. I need permission to be absent on the tenth of December in order to attend a very important event. My father sent you a letter."
Richard placed the letter on the Deputy Headmistress's desk. McGonagall unfolded it, adjusted her spectacles, and began to read. She looked as though, if she exhaled, a jet of flame would burst from her mouth and reduce the letter to ashes.
"Mr. Grosvenor, this is quite impossible!" She raised her eyes to Richard. "Students are permitted to leave Hogwarts only during the holidays."
"Ma'am, I believe you may have read the letter rather carelessly," Richard replied. Outwardly, he remained cool and composed, though a wave of fury was rising inside him. "I've been nominated for the Nobel Prize! The Nobel Prize, ma'am! I'm the youngest candidate ever nominated for this extraordinarily prestigious scientific award... On the tenth of December, I've been invited to dine with the King of Sweden. One does not decline invitations of that sort."
"No, Mr. Grosvenor," McGonagall declared firmly. "I cannot permit you to leave the school."
"Ma'am, surely an exception can be made. This is the Nobel Prize!"
"Muggle awards are of no concern to us," McGonagall replied haughtily.
"Perhaps not to you," Richard replied, a note of mockery creeping into his voice. "Let's be honest—you'll never receive an award like that. But it matters to me. Are you truly prepared to disregard a request from the Duke of Westminster? Missing a single day of lessons makes no difference whatsoever."
"Do not test my patience," the Deputy Headmistress said slowly. "Mr. Grosvenor, you will remain in the castle."
Everything had its limits. Richard's patience finally snapped. In a crisp, icy voice, he said,
"Ma'am, I shall be filing a complaint. I couldn't care less about your rules or your principles. When the matter concerns an audience with a king and the Nobel Prize, your rules become nothing more than rotten cardboard—not worth the slightest consideration. Do you think I need this school? Not a chance!"
"This is disgraceful!" Professor McGonagall declared. "Just think of it—a student speaking insolently to a professor and making threats! Never in all my years has anything like this happened! I thought you were far more sensible than this, Mr. Grosvenor. Fifty points from Hufflepuff."
Richard regarded the Deputy Headmistress with open contempt. The look in his eyes was so expressive that McGonagall involuntarily shivered. For a fleeting moment, she had the unsettling impression that her student was looking at her as though she were a lump of excrement that had suddenly begun to speak.
"I understand, Professor," Richard replied coldly.
Although fury flooded every fiber of Grosvenor's being, he nevertheless gave her a polite bow in farewell, tipped his cane, and then left the Deputy Headmistress's office.
McGonagall had dealt a tremendous blow to Richard's pride. Worse still, she had demonstrated utter indifference toward the Duke's request and had laid bare her contempt for ordinary people. After that conversation, Richard mentally placed McGonagall, if not among his enemies, then at the very least on his blacklist. And another thought had begun to take root in his mind...
Who had ever said that the world was destined to be destroyed by a wizard rather than a witch?
After all, McGonagall was considered one of the most powerful witches alive...
Richi was determined to attend the reception hosted by the King of Sweden, no matter what it took. It had become a matter of principle.
His first impulse was to call the Minister for Magic immediately. But he restrained himself from acting rashly. He did not take out his wizardphone until he had calmed down and returned to his dormitory, which happened to be empty.
The Minister's pleasant voice came from the enchanted device.
"Richard, it's good to hear from you."
"Good afternoon, Millicent. Is this a convenient time to talk?"
"Yes. Have you discovered anything about Black?"
"No, Millicent. Nothing beyond what you already know. Have there been any new developments on your end?"
"Unfortunately not," the Minister replied with a disappointed sigh. "But that's all right. Richard, your plan turned out to be an excellent one. At the very least, it saved my reputation. It's a pity we have to search for the criminal unofficially. But enough about Black. I assume that's not why you called..."
"Millicent, I must say, I greatly admire your intelligence and quick wits! I've run into a small problem."
"Oh, Richard, the word problem does sound rather alarming..." Bagnold replied in her rich, velvety voice.
"Nothing serious. This summer I received a notice from the Nobel Committee informing me that I'd been nominated for the Nobel Prize."
"Oh!" Bagnold exclaimed, genuinely delighted. "Richard, please accept my heartfelt congratulations!"
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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