Saturday and Sunday flew by for Richard. Under his mentor's watchful eye, he once again conjured to the point of exhaustion.
When magic becomes a training exercise, like that of a professional athlete, it no longer feels magical. It feels like hard work.
It was a blessed Monday-a day of rest from everything. Richie planned to spend it lounging on the couch and doing nothing, at most maybe heading to the home theater and watching a couple of "new" movies.
A sudden knock on the door made the boy start.
- Mr. Richie, Detective Potter has arrived to see you.
"John, damn it!" Richard groaned. "Give me ten seconds to crawl to the office and then call him here."
- Mister Richie, it is not proper for a noble man to use curses, especially such plebeian ones.
- Yes, yes, yes, I understand you, John.
Richard had barely entered his office when Scott Potter followed him.
"You look like crap, kid!" he remarked cheerfully. "If I didn't know what family you come from, I'd assume you were unloading coal cars last night."
"But you, sir, look wonderful," Richard remarked ironically, turning to the man.
In fact, Scott looked a little rumpled, he had a blue bruise under his right eye, and his suit looked like it had been chewed by a cow.
"One-one!" Detective Potter grinned, unceremoniously sitting down in the chair. "What a problem you've given me..."
Richard rounded the desk and took a seat in his chair. Resting his chin on his folded arms, he asked curiously,
- Did the wizards give you a black eye?
"Yeah," the detective admitted. "I'm in trouble with those devilish slums! I had to do a bit of punching and shooting. So I better not show up at the mages' anytime soon. But I did find out a few things about your problem."
A folded, crumpled cardboard folder, taken from the inside pocket of the detective's jacket, fell onto the table.
Richard straightened the folder and opened it curiously. Inside were photographs of a red-haired man and a strange house. It appeared to have been some kind of brick outbuilding, with wooden additions later added to the sides and top. The house had grown several stories tall and looked so precarious, as if it were held together by magic alone.
"This is the same Arthur Weasley," the detective began. "And this is his house, located in Devon, near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. Several other wizarding houses are located there. All are enchanted with Muggle-repelling charms, as ordinary people don't notice them."
- Hmm... An original structure.
"That's right!" the detective agreed. "Regarding the Weasleys. Father of seven, a model family man. His wife is a housewife. Arthur earns two hundred and fifty Galleons a month. He enjoys enchanting various technical devices. His entire garage is filled with junk from ordinary people, most likely confiscated. Sometimes he takes bribes in kind or in favors, turning a blind eye to minor infractions by wizards. Basically, an ordinary guy with a hobby, only a wizard. No mistress, and he hasn't been caught up in any shady dealings. The family is short of money. I wrote in more detail in the report.
"Okay, Mr. Potter, I'll review your report. What about the bodyguard?"
"Sorry, man, but I'm alone," the detective said, spreading his arms. "I'll come to my senses a bit and then I'll get to it. Are you in a hurry?"
- It is advisable to find the right wizard before summer.
"Ooooh, see you later!" drawled the detective. "We'll find it a hundred times over. Okay, I have to go, Harry's waiting for me. Bye."
- Goodbye, Mr. Potter.
After the detective left, Richard spent some time carefully studying the records on Mr. Weasley and his family. It was clear to the boy that this wizard could be caught with a golden hook. A family man who loves his children and family would certainly want the best for his descendants.
The first thing Richard did was test the owl. He wrote a letter to Harry Potter, went up to the attic, and tied it to Darth Vader's leg. Feeling like an idiot, Richie said to the barn owl:
"Okay, Darth Vader, take this letter to Harry Potter. Wait for him to write a reply and bring it to me. Do you understand?"
The barn owl hooted, shook its head, flapped its wings and flew out the attic window.
"Let's see how the mage mail works," Richie muttered under his breath.
Returning to his office, young Rich picked up the telephone and dialed Dan Silver's number.
"I'm listening," the subordinate responded.
- Good afternoon, Mr. Silver.
"Sir, I'm glad to hear from you. Pepsi shares have started to soar ahead of their May earnings call. Nokia shares are still high, and I don't think it's worth investing in them just yet. Coca-Cola has made its final advertising payment. Walmart promises to pay off its 'clip-ups' in full by the end of May."
"Mr. Silver, thank you for the information, but I'm calling about something else entirely. Contact the Rich Group land department and find out if the company owns any land in Scotland near the unprofitable properties it disposed of in February. Do so now and let me know immediately."
- Um... Okay, sir.
Richard didn't have to wait long. Half an hour later, the phone rang. Mr. Silver immediately began his report:
"Mr. Richard, I've found out the information you requested. Yes, Rich Group owns two more plots of land nearby. The first is irregularly shaped, fifty acres, and the second is rectangular, one hundred thirty-five acres."
"Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Silver. That's all for now. Continue monitoring the stock market. Invest the proceeds from Coca-Cola and Walmart, and any remaining cash, in the Altria Group tobacco company. Their shares are currently down to three dollars and four cents. I predict they'll rise by ten percent after the annual report is released in June or July, and if we're lucky, as much as twenty percent. Don't delay, or May is approaching, and the stock will only rise."
- Understood, sir. Altria Group. I've written it down. I'll call the broker right now and issue an order to buy their shares. Anything else?
- No, Mr. Silver. Goodbye.
Richard pressed the end call button and dialed the number of his father's hunting club.
"Rich Hunting Club," a calm male voice replied.
- Good afternoon, sir. This is Richard Rich speaking. Please put Gerald Rich on the line.
- Just a moment, Lord.
For about twenty seconds, Richard listened to the silence on the phone. There was a rustling sound, followed by the boy's father's voice coming from the speaker: