Gerald applauded.
- Bravo! Bravo, Richie! An excellent demonstration of analytical skills.
The week flew by. Between studying and fencing practice, Richie didn't even notice Saturday had arrived.
Due to additional magic classes, the boy had to revise his school curriculum schedule and reduce his rapier training from six times a week to five.
The portal transport proved quite convenient. Richard placed the enchanted bracelet on his wrist and said:
- Portus.
Immediately, the boy felt a tug, as if someone had pushed him. The scenery changed abruptly. One moment he was standing in his bedroom, dressed in a smart three-piece suit, and the next, he found himself in a completely unfamiliar place.
Before Richard loomed an ancient two-story house, decorated in the classical style. Numerous columns and arches on the ground floor supported an open terrace-balcony on the second floor with arched windows. The walls of the house were made of white stone. The house itself wasn't large, but it was hardly small either: about twenty meters long and about twelve meters wide.
Despite the cold weather, there wasn't a single snowflake in sight. The temperature was spring-like, and Richard felt a bit warm in the coat he'd thrown on just in case. Instead of snowdrifts, the guest's eyes were met with smooth green lawns and bushes trimmed to resemble dragons, manticores, and other unseen creatures. Surprisingly, the bushes were also green.
Richard climbed the marble steps and entered under the arched vault. His path was blocked by enormous double doors with a knocker hanging on them.
After striking the bronze plate with a hammer, the doors swung open of their own accord. Such a stunt was impossible to surprise the transmigrator, as in his former world, electronics controlled virtually everything, including doors that opened automatically in almost every home, and all household appliances could be controlled by voice commands.
The inside of the house didn't quite resemble a magical one. It felt like a museum. Everything here exuded antiquity. Candles burned in massive bronze holders on the walls, but there was no wax beneath them. It seemed as if they had been lit recently, as the candles hadn't even had time to burn down a bit.
"Come here, my boy," came the loud voice of an old woman from the depths of the house.
Following the voice, Richie found himself in a spacious living room. The furniture was from the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries, with delicate wood carvings, but it looked as if it had just come from a craftsman's workshop. The upholstery was new, dark green, the varnish gleamed as if freshly polished. Richard had something to compare it to, as he had a lot of rare furniture in his estate, and this certainly didn't look as good.
The old woman sat in an antique armchair with slender arms near the fireplace, where a fire was burning. She wore a dark burgundy dress in the fashion of the eighteenth century: a full skirt, short puffy sleeves, a neckline, and ankle-length hem.
"Good morning, teacher," Richard said, bowing in greeting. "A lovely dress, it suits you."
- Oh, flatterer!
The old woman's lips parted in a semblance of a smile, revealing a neat row of snow-white teeth. Richard immediately thought that wizards had no dental problems. Either they used high-quality dentures or possessed some secret that allowed them to keep all their teeth intact even after two hundred years. And judging by everything, the latter was more likely.
"Young people these days aren't what they used to be," the old woman said grumpily. "You can tell a boy is well-behaved right away. Will you have some tea, Richard?"
- Thank you, ma'am, but I just came from breakfast.
- Well then, fine. Have a seat.
Richard took the indicated chair opposite the old woman. Madam Marchbanks asked:
- What do you know about magic?
- Nothing, ma'am.
"Just as I thought!" Madam Marchbanks stated. "Remember, boy, magic is omnipresent and can do anything with it. If anyone says something can't be done with magic, they're either deeply mistaken or deliberately misleading, and they probably haven't even tried to look for other ways, because magic is also multifaceted. Do you know about Harry Potter?"
Richard didn't tell the whole truth, he told the official point of view:
"Ma'am, I know that name. I run a charity that helps orphans, and among my charges is a boy named Harry Potter. He also has a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead and poor eyesight, which forces him to wear glasses."
"Oh! Poor fellow!" Madam Marchbanks exclaimed without pretense. "I'd forgotten that you, like a Muggle-born, know nothing. This boy is definitely Harry Potter. I wonder where you might have seen him?"
- Harry lives with his guardians, apparently his mother's sister and her husband.
"Yes, yes, quite logical," the old woman remarked. "Otherwise, the whole world was wondering where Harry Potter had gone."
- So what are you getting at, ma'am?
"Hmm... Oh, right! Harry's famous for surviving the deadly Avada Kedavra spell you used to scare Millie and me so much. No one had ever been able to survive that spell before, but Harry did. I mean, let everyone say it's impossible to survive Avada, but Harry survived, albeit with a scar. Poor boy! I think his parents devised a ritual that protected them. It's a shame they didn't have time to share their achievement with the rest of the wizarding world.