Richie realized that this conversation no longer interested him. He noticed that only the valet, the journalist, and Harry remained in the room—the boy having stepped close to him.
"Hi, Harry," Richard said.
"H-hello… uh… Lord," Potter replied uncertainly.
"Harry, you can call me Richie. We're the same age, after all."
Harry's face lit up with a smile. With sincere gratitude, he said,
"Thank you for helping!"
"You're welcome. I just did what I had to do. You know, pal, one day you'll save humanity—maybe more than once."
"I… humanity?!" Potter's eyes were full of confusion.
"Yes. You."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because you're a wizard, Harry!"
A crooked smile appeared on Potter's face.
"No, I'm just Harry. Harry Potter. Magic doesn't exist."
"You think you're just Harry. And you're wrong about magic. Watch."
Richie showed Harry his empty palms, then plucked a gold coin from behind his ear.
"Ha-ha!" Harry laughed sincerely. "That's just a simple trick!"
"Simple, you say?" Richard raised his right eyebrow. "What about this, then?"
A moment later, Richie was holding an old, worn, hole-riddled sock between the fingers of his right hand.
Harry felt a chill around his right foot. He looked down and was astonished to discover that it was indeed missing a sock. Then he raised his eyes to Richard and, on closer inspection, recognized his own sock pinched between two fingers. At that moment, Potter's face displayed a remarkable range of emotions—from joy and belief in miracles to sheer, overwhelming astonishment.
"How did you do that?!" he asked.
"It's magic, Harry!" Richard said with a grin. "Abra-cadabra, alley-oop!"
The young Grosvenor flicked the sock, and it vanished. Harry realized that he no longer felt a draft on his foot. And yet—strangely enough—the socks now on his feet were definitely not his. Before, he'd been wearing Dudley's old black socks, which were too big for the boy and frayed with age. Now, on his feet were brand-new dark blue socks that looked expensive even at a glance. They even bore a monogram in the shape of the letter "G."
"Incredible…" Harry Potter whispered in awe. "Will I be able to do that too?"
"Easily, Harry," Richie whispered, leaning close to the boy's ear. "In a couple of years, an alcoholic giant will come for you and give you a ticket to a school of magic and wizardry. There, they'll teach you how to use your mutant abilities. Just like in the X-Men comics."
"Um…" Harry hesitated. "Is that really necessary? I mean, the part about the alcoholic giant? It's just that my aunt and uncle don't like oddities or drunks."
"For you—it's absolutely necessary!" Richard declared with firm confidence. "You're the future savior of the world, Harry. Everyone else usually gets a prim-looking Scottish woman who works at the school as the deputy headmistress."
"If everyone else gets the deputy head, then who comes for me? The headmaster himself? Is he a giant?"
"Ha!" Richard chuckled. "Aim higher… You'll be visited by THE GAMEKEEPER himself!"
Harry looked at Richard in such a way that, even without telepathy, one could clearly read the thought:
Are you messing with me?!
Distrust radiated from Harry. He decided that Richie was only joking, and that all the talk about magic was just made up to cheer him up. Simple tricks—yes, tricks, and nothing more!
In any case, Harry was deeply grateful to Richard. This boy, a complete stranger to him, the prince's godson—almost a prince himself—had come to his aid. Now Harry would have pocket money, just like Dudley. He would also have decent clothes, and he'd move into a room with a window!
The day after the young lord's visit, a BBC news anchor read out the following item among the headlines:
"The godson of Prince Charles, son of the Duke of Westminster, the young prodigy Richard Grosvenor, who completed the second grade of secondary school at the age of nine, has taken up charitable work. The first money he earned—from the production of novelty Skrepyshes —he spent on helping orphans. The young Grosvenor visited a troubled family, where he discovered that the director of a drill-manufacturing company was abusing his orphaned nephew, whom he had taken into his care. Thanks to the actions of the Duke of Westminster's heir, the orphan's living conditions were improved, and the troubled family was placed under supervision by the state and a charitable foundation. The young Grosvenor has allocated the orphan a substantial stipend, which will be paid to the boy until he comes of age."
In addition to the television report, a lengthy newspaper article was published. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley received what they feared most in the world—public exposure. Where they once considered many things abnormal, now it was they whom others deemed abnormal. And yet the Dursleys themselves believed their behavior and treatment of their nephew to be entirely proper.
The neighbors spent a long time gossiping about the Dursleys. Although the article did not name names, it did mention the town. Little Whinging is a small place, so everyone immediately understood who was being talked about. After the article, the neighbor women stopped dropping by the Dursleys' house, and Petunia no longer received invitations to the homemakers' club. This dealt a serious blow to Mrs. Dursley's pride, but at the same time, it forced Petunia and Vernon to reflect on their behavior.
From that day on, Dudley's parents began to raise him more strictly, while Harry Potter's life took a different turn.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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