Richard had never been in the Headmaster's office before. Gabriel Truman escorted the first-year student to the top floor of the central tower. Stopping near the gargoyle statue, he said:
- Marmalade.
Hearing the password, the statue came to life, looked carefully at the visitors and moved to the side.
"That's it, Rich, you're on your own from now on," said the prefect and turned back.
Richard took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, then stepped forward onto the stairs. Suddenly, the steps began to move upward, like an escalator, and Richie barely managed to grab the railing to stay on his feet.
The moving staircase brought the first-year Hufflepuff to a landing with a massive door adorned with a griffin-shaped knocker. Richard rapped the knocker, and the door swung open.
The spacious, circular office with its many windows was quite crowded. Lifelike portraits, presumably of former headmasters, hung on the walls. Behind the main desk hung the largest portrait, of a gray-haired old man with a long beard. The office was filled with various tables with twisted legs, each holding fragile silver utensils; some constantly creaked and clanked, others puffed and released wisps of smoke. Meanwhile, the magical tomes and manuscripts that made up Dumbledore's personal library also found a home here, along with a stone bowl on a steel tripod and a phoenix-a large bird with golden plumage.
The Headmaster's magical devices immediately led Richard to believe they were intended to distract visitors. This is a well-known but rarely used tactic among businessmen, as it's primarily used by con artists. For example, con artists use this method to distract people's attention, making it easier to manipulate them. Respectable businessmen frown upon such tactics, as do lower chairs for visitors, as in the Hogwarts headmaster's office. This trick is also well-known. The owner of the office sits higher, creating a subconscious feeling of discomfort in visitors and a desire to get things done quickly, which inadvertently leads to mistakes, poor bargaining, and the like.
Dumbledore sat serenely at his desk, his fingertips tucked together. Deputy Headmistress McGonagall stood frozen next to him to the right, her expression deeply strained. Professor Sprout stood to the left, looking very agitated, the dirt on her robes indicating that the Head of Hufflepuff had been unexpectedly summoned from the greenhouses.
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, a grizzled, brown-eyed man in a pinstriped suit, rocked back and forth near the large fireplace, looking agitated. But what most disconcerted Richard were the two Aurors in scarlet robes standing frozen on either side of the front door: a stocky, black-haired African-American with a short hairstyle and a squat wizard with coarse, light brown hair no more than a centimeter long.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Richard bowed politely, holding himself with the dignity of an aristocrat. "A wonderful company. The prefect said you wished to see me, Headmaster."
The portraits of former Headmasters and headmistresses gazed at the assembled group with seriousness and great curiosity. Some of them moved into other paintings and whispered to each other.
Cornelius Fudge looked at Richard with a mixture of contempt and incredible superiority that young Rich couldn't interpret. Richard didn't understand what was happening, and it was unnerving.
"So, Mr. Rich, do you know why you're here?" Fudge asked.
"Sir," Richard frowned. "We are not introduced. I have no idea why I'm here, but it's certainly not to be insulted. Only teachers and school staff have the right to treat students equally. You don't look like a Hogwarts teacher, so please address me as I am: Lord, Earl, Lord Earl, Earl Rich, or, if you prefer, My Lord."
Richard gave the Minister a cold, contemptuous look, as if he'd suddenly discovered a foul-smelling piece of horse poop on the sole of his shoe, somehow. Fudge shuddered at this treatment, his face turning purple with anger.
The young Hufflepuff noticed the black Auror tensing up. He squinted at the Minister, as if considering the best way to finish him off. His fellow Auror received a similar, barely noticeable glance.
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips in displeasure and gave Richard a stern look. Professor Sprout, on the other hand, looked disapprovingly at the Minister. Headmaster Dumbledore beamed with pleasure, like a cat who stole his master's sour cream. Perhaps he looked too pleased; one was tempted to feed him a lemon so that the headmaster wouldn't squint happily.
Fudge pulled himself together with difficulty and asked in a voice rich with sarcasm:
- So, you don't have the slightest idea why you ended up here?
"Sir," said Richard haughtily, "if you invited me to play riddles, you have chosen the wrong man."
"Mr. Rich," McGonagall said in a cold, stern voice, "before you stands the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
"Professor McGonagall," Richard nodded politely to the lady, "thank you for maintaining propriety. It's a pity..."
"What do you regret, young man?" Fudge asked ironically. "Your crimes, perhaps?"
"It's a pity the minister isn't Madam Bagnold," Richard sighed dramatically. "Such a pleasant lady, well versed in the rules of propriety. When she visited our estate, my godfather, Prince Charles, praised Madam Bagnold's professional qualities and impeccable manners."
McGonagall's eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in astonishment.
Dumbledore seemed thoroughly amused. His pupils glittered mischievously beneath his half-moon glasses, and amused crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. Richard stole a glance at the headmaster, who acknowledged the tabletop with a microscopic nod and the hint of a wink. This didn't sit well with Rich; he felt as if someone was trying to manipulate him with such banal tricks.
The minister's face became covered in red spots and his right eye began to twitch.
"Meeting royalty," Fudge said, his voice hoarse with anger, "doesn't exempt you from punishment for breaking wizarding law!"