Richard's right hand unclenched. The wand, pulled by the inexorable gravity, slowly floated toward the floor. His left hand moved toward his right and grasped the hilt of the artifact sword. A meter-long, thick, bright blue beam of light erupted from the steel cylinder. Inspired by Star Wars, the master mage-engineers at Rich Workshop imbued it with the astonishing properties of a Jedi sword.
The green beam of the unforgivable death spell approached Richard inexorably. Rich's heart pounded wildly in his chest. The young swordsman's hand made a familiar deflecting motion and... lo and behold! Avada's green beam met the saber's blue beam. Green and blue sparks flew from their point of contact.
Quirrell, his face frozen in a mask of horror, stared in dismay at the green beam of his own killing spell as it flew back at him. He had no time to react; the reflected Avada hit him square in the forehead.
In the deathly silence that followed, Quirinus Quirrell's dead body fell to the floor with a noise like someone dropping a sack of potatoes. He lay pale and motionless, his face buried in the cold stones. The horrific face on the back of his head was frozen in a hideous, hideous mask.
Suddenly, a black, translucent substance, like a terrible ghost, with outlines that resembled a human figure, flew out of the back of Quirrell's head with a wild and angry howl.
Harry Potter screamed in pain, fell to his knees and clutched his head with both hands.
The ghost seeped through the ceiling, vanishing without a trace. Only then did Potter feel better. He raised his head. Tears could be seen in the corners of the boy's eyes behind his glasses. Looking around, Harry said with relief:
- Phew! Once that crap disappeared, my head stopped hurting. That was worth flunking the professor.
"You speak just like you would about your ex-wife, who sued you for half your fortune," Richard commented jokingly.
"Better a wife than You-Know-Who on the back of the professor's head," Ron remarked fatalistically. "Richie, congratulations on your first teacher kill," he added nervously, trying not to look at the professor's body.
"Well, technically Quirrell killed himself," Richard also tried not to look at the corpse. He felt lousy.
Something was wrong out of the corner of his eye. Richie turned to the right and froze. All thoughts of the dead professor vanished from his mind.
"No-o-o-o!!!" he screamed in horror.
"What?!" Ron twisted his head from side to side, clutching his wand tightly.
"Where is he?!" Potter stood up abruptly, waving his wand around.
"My precious," Richie said, pointing at the mirror with tears in his eyes. "He broke my precious!"
"Ugh, Merlin's underpants!" Weasley spat on the floor. "You scared me."
"Richie, it's just a mirror," Potter said.
"What do you understand? This mirror could have made me billions. But it's gone... My precious one is gone..."
"So you don't feel sorry for the professor, but you do feel sorry for the mirror?" Ron asked ironically.
- Yes, for that I would...
Richie glared at Quirrell's body. His nostrils flared with rage, his jaw muscles twitching. He no longer regretted the professor's death. In fact, he would gladly kill Quirrell a second time now.
It's not for nothing that they say businessmen are willing to commit any crime for a 300 percent profit. But here the profit was supposed to be in the thousands. All they had to do was invest a paltry fifty million dollars, and then rake in the cash.
"So-o-o-o..." Harry suddenly looked around. "Where's the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Ouch!" Ron looked around. "I think I let go of him when we started throwing spells at Quirrell."
Harry looked carefully at the feet of Ron, himself and Richard.
"Ron, but where could the Philosopher's Stone have gone?" he asked.
Richard himself couldn't figure out where the fake stone could have gone. He looked around with the same astonishment as his comrades. Suddenly, his gaze fell on the owl, which seemed to have swelled slightly and was sitting in the corner with an insolent air.
"An owl!" he exclaimed. "An owl must have eaten him!"
Ron and Harry's sharp, predatory gazes froze on the owl, which backed away and rested against the corner.
"Well, let's see," Harry said. "Ron!"
Rich and Potter looked sharply at Weasley.
"What?!" Weasley exclaimed in confusion.
"Look in the owl," Harry said.
"What do you mean, look in the owl?!" Ron's eyes widened.
"Well, I mean, open it," Harry said.
- Your mother! This isn't a bottle of butterbeer, what do you mean, open it?!