Someone had to answer for the setup with the Minister of Magic. Richard was thirsty for the blood of the guilty. The fate of the wizarding informers was sealed, since young Rich, distrusting the integrity of magical justice, enlisted Madam Marchbanks, who he told part of the truth in a letter, as he had told Mr. Weasley. In her reply, the elder of the Wizengamot promised that the wizarding thieves would be tried to the fullest extent of the law and face imprisonment in Azkaban for six months to three years.
Richie was certain Dumbledore was involved, but there was no proof. So, despite his father's request, he decided to steal the Philosopher's Stone anyway to take revenge on the headmaster. This was no longer about saving the world; it was a matter of honor.
The holidays arrived quickly, almost instantly. Richard, along with most of the other students, boarded the Hogwarts Express, but he wasn't about to waste a few hours. As soon as the train pulled out of Hogsmeade Station, Richie used the Portkey, naturally having warned his father with a call on the Magiphone.
Gerald Rich, slightly thinner and more excited, was delighted at the arrival of his son.
"Richie," he hugged the boy joyfully, "how you've grown! Tell me, how are you doing?"
"Um..." Richard hesitated.
Gerald tensed and pulled away slightly from his son. He looked Richard over with a careful gaze and asked:
- Something happened again? An assassination attempt?!
"It happened, but it wasn't an assassination attempt," Richie replied. "Dad, you're probably aware of the supply of magical items to the secret services..."
"Of course," the Duke nodded his chin gravely. "You didn't think you could keep such a scheme a secret from me, did you? But I was assured that everything was planned in such a way that officially no one would be able to find out: neither the wizards nor our laws."
"So, Minister Fudge tried to arrest me, insulted me, threatened me, and even dared to refer to himself as a king. Imagine, he thought he had the right to judge a nobleman from the royal family!"
"That's a serious accusation," Gerald said. "I need all the details."
Richard recounted to his father everything that had happened to him in the Headmaster's office, recalling every detail. He had to repeat the story several times, recalling and describing what he had forgotten the first time.
Richard and Gerald settled into armchairs in the living room near the fireplace. The Duke was lost in thought for a long time. He was angry, his fists clenched and his jaw muscles twitching with rage and indignation.
"What does this upstart think he's doing?!" the Duke drawled, his voice cold with rage. "The Queen will be very displeased. Some wizard, temporarily elected minister, dares to claim her right to judge aristocrats! But that's not the main thing... He dared to threaten my son!!! Threaten... I'll crush that Fudge into dust!"
"Dad, I think it was a provocation," Richard noted.
"Provocation?" The father tilted his head to the side and looked questioningly at his son.
"Yes," Richard nodded. "Fudge is an idiot who somehow rose to high office. Rumor has it, not without Dumbledore's help. Someone is trying to test us through him. Watching our reactions. Will we respond or tolerate them? If we respond, how? Do we have any real power or ability to resist the wizards..."
"Hmm..." Gerald rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, son... It certainly seems so. This is no longer our personal affair, but a challenge to the Queen and the secret services. We cannot tolerate such a slap in the face and must demonstrate our power and strength to wizards. Fudge must be dealt with. But surely someone is behind him..."
"Dad, I thought so too. I think it was Dumbledore. But I have no proof. Everything is as smooth as it could be. But if the forensic psychiatrist's characterization is to be believed, such subtle intrigue and manipulation are exactly Albus Dumbledore's nature."
"Richie, don't worry about anything," Gerald said. "Your job is to learn magic, and the dirty politics will be handled by adults, professionals in their field. I repeat: stay out of trouble. And you must stop supplying magical items to the secret services."
"Already. I've alerted my contact and instructed Arthur Weasley to focus the workshop on developing new items. If it works out, I'll soon be able to resume deliveries and expand more seriously, legally."
"Richie, what are you up to?" the Duke asked anxiously.
"Dad, it's nothing dangerous. I just bribed the representatives of the International Confederation of Magicians to pass a law that will allow me to trade magical items with normal people. It's expensive, but it's worth it."
"Is this really safe?" Gerald continued to worry.
- A mosquito won't hurt your nose!
Richie told his father about the ICW and the way he planned to push through the law. Gerald perked up.
"Son, it's foolish to hope for a miracle," the Duke said. "You must bribe most of the ICW chairmen, otherwise the money will be wasted. You must have a majority of the votes, regardless of the actions of the other delegates."
"I need money," Richard shrugged. "I have several tons of precious metals."
"Do you need gold?" Gerald asked.
- Yes.
"You will have it!" Rich Sr. said firmly.
***
Rich Jr.'s short Christmas break proved to be both intense and productive.
The day after Christmas dinner at the royal palace, Richie exchanged all his accumulated precious metal bars for gold, which he took to Gringotts and filled his safe with precious galleons. The sum was impressive by wizarding standards, and even ordinary people would envy such wealth: nine million forty-five thousand galleons. This figure included a ten percent cut of the metals' price to the intermediary banker. And the goblins got another one percent.
Richard thought it was surprising the wizarding economy hadn't collapsed yet. It was obvious where they'd found so much money to buy gold-the goblins had amassed a large stock of coins over the years the bank existed, and what's more, these little guys were minting them themselves. What was surprising was something else: a first-year student, casting a spell once or twice a day before bed, had made a fortune with a common spell. Couldn't other wizards do the same? They could! They very well could. And some even use something similar, as Madam Marchbanks had hinted. But...
An explanation can be found. Richie is rich and titled, so no one doubts his vast wealth of gold. If an ordinary wizard had approached the goblins, they would certainly have been fleeced or turned over to the Aurors. The latter happens more often than not, so smart wizards try to cash out small amounts of money to avoid standing out and attracting the attention of law enforcement.