⁶🤷♂️⁷ (I promise this is the last time)
For a moment, there was complete silence on the line-audible breathing. The former minister on the other end of the line was dumbfounded. She was used to much smaller bribes, much smaller. It took her a moment to realize that this was just for brooches, meaning to finance the election campaign, until Richie added:
"I'm sure your secret admirer adores strong women, especially ministers. And he'll probably give his lady love some change for jewelry. About a hundred thousand Galleons a year."
"So modest?!" Madame Bagnold exclaimed indignantly, quickly coming to her senses. "I wouldn't even consider dating such an admirer. Now, if we were talking about a million..."
"Lady... Lady! God forbid you should have such admirers! Where would you find one? My father, perhaps, could have become one; he's a billionaire, after all. But he's not particularly interested in wizards and sorceresses. For example, I'm just a modest millionaire. I'm sure your beloved admirer isn't that respectable, but there's no point in turning him down if he adds another hundred thousand to your bread and butter."
"Ah, Count," the ex-minister sighed erotically. "If only my admirer would add another three hundred thousand for caviar."
"Eating a lot of caviar is bad for you-you can get fat... And anyway, did I hear correctly that they were talking about thirty thousand a month, or is this an artifact that's malfunctioning?"
"No, no, Count," the satisfied ex-minister decided to settle on the matter, "your artifact works wonderfully. I've always dreamed of a suitor like you, someone who would give me thirty thousand Galleons a month for jewelry. Oh! I'd probably even overlook all his shortcomings and support him in all his endeavors."
"What dedication!" Richard feigned admiration. "Lady, my respects. It was a pleasure talking to you."
"Count," the deep, erotic voice seemed to penetrate Richard's very core, "and how pleased I was to hear from you... I can't describe it in words... Be sure to say hello to your father and godfather."
- Certainly, lady. Good luck in your endeavors.
- And to you, Count.
After disconnecting the wireless connection, Richie thought:
"I should have accepted my father's sponsorship. The Galleons are melting away so quickly in the Gringotts vault, as if I were Kai from The Snow Queen, and the coins were made of ice, and a hot summer had arrived. That's another million chips down, and the new year 1992 just started."
***
Two weeks passed. Mid-January turned out to be very snowy. Dumbledore took no action against Richard. Harry Potter remained furious with the headmaster and plotted revenge.
Richard, meanwhile, was actively preparing to save the world and his own backside, and if that didn't work out, then at least to save a portion of humanity and his loved ones. The first step in this plan was building a spaceship, and the second was depriving the potential villain or villainous wizards of a possible source of long life and healing-that is, stealing the Philosopher's Stone.
The first steps had already been taken. At the Rich Workshop, the development of artificial intelligence based on the techniques of creating living paintings and the Sorting Hat was in full swing. Consultations with specialist scientists and engineers were essential in developing the AI and integrating data storage and transmission technologies with the magical chips.
Positive developments were also evident in politics. First, Arthur Weasley and the British Chairman of the ICW succeeded in buying a majority of the votes in the International Confederation of Wizards. A firm date was set for an unscheduled ICW meeting. Second, Madam Bagnold, having acquired a document that allowed her to obtain a million Galleons from Rich's vault, began active political activity: bribing ministry officials and members of the press, blackmail, and other exciting activities that precede any election. In another conversation over the Magiphone, the former Minister assured Richard that with such substantial funding, she would definitely become Minister again, despite the machinations of her competitors.
Richie decided to devote the day to preparing for the Philosopher's Stone retrieval. To this end, he first tracked down Hermione Granger and secluded himself and her in an abandoned classroom devoid of any living portraits.
"Richie," Granger glanced around the dusty room, "did you want to talk to me?"
"Hermione, I have an important task for you. You'll help me, right?"
"Of course!" Granger said with keen interest. "What needs to be done?"
"I want to know what the Philosopher's Stone looks like," Richard replied. "Hermione, please find out. And I also kindly ask you to keep my interest a secret. Can you do this in the next two or three months?"
"I..." Granger thought. "Yes, I can. I'll have to search through the entire library, but I'll definitely find it."
"Thank you so much! Hermione, I'll be very grateful. To make your search easier, I'll give you a starting point-the creator of the last known Philosopher's Stone was the alchemist Nicholas Flamel. He's about six hundred years old."
"Is he still alive?" Hermione asked in surprise.
"Yes," Richard nodded, following his words. "That's the whole point of this stone-to prolong a person's life."
"Richie, why do you need this?" Granger asked curiously. "Maybe we should find the recipe for the Philosopher's Stone?"
Richard laughed. Calming down, he said:
"Hermione, if only it were that simple... Do you really think that with the Great Work recipe readily available, wizards would only live slightly longer than ordinary people? If you don't see the Elixir of Life in wizarding pharmacies, then the recipe for the Philosopher's Stone isn't readily available either."