Fred turned to his brother.
"George, who said we had to be serious with our benefactor?"
"Oh, forgive us, my lord," George said, slipping into a playful tone. "We were hoping to make a lasting impression."
"You've succeeded," Richard replied. "I must admit, I expected your visit a little sooner. Have you had any success?"
"Yes—but it's better to see it once than hear about it," Fred said.
The trio of boys reached the Weasley twins' secret hideout. Fred immediately began performing a series of strange manipulations. He placed a pillow on his head and fastened it beneath his chin with a strap. Then he produced a vial filled with acid-green potion and launched into a rapid-fire salesman's pitch:
"Gentlemen, allow us to present the greatest invention of Fred and George Weasley! This marvellous creation has been christened the 'Hop-Skip Potion'. I'm sure you're dying to know what it does?"
Without waiting for an answer, Fred continued:
"It's all terribly simple, gentlemen. One tiny sip of this potion, and your weight will become as light as a feather. For the next minute, you'll be able to leap to great heights—and you won't be injured even if you land from a considerable height."
Before the eyes of a curious Richard and an anxious George, Fred took a small sip from the vial. Then he began to demonstrate astonishing feats of acrobatics. It was as though gravity no longer behaved as it did on Earth, but had become something closer to the Moon's. He leapt up toward the high ceiling—some seven metres above—springing about like a crazed antelope that had somehow been bitten by a parkour enthusiast. He pushed off the walls, performed a series of complex flips—slightly clumsy, perhaps, but still thoroughly impressive.
While his brother performed, George held a stopwatch in his hand. At a certain point, he called out:
"Fred, time!"
Hearing him, Fred stopped jumping. His face was slick with sweat, the cushion on his head had slipped to one side, and his robes were askew. He was breathing hard, yet a wide, delighted grin never left his lips.
"Well?" Fred asked.
"Amazing!" Richard said honestly. "Very useful—but… gentlemen, it's a potion. Unfortunately, potions have a serious drawback: they rely on rare ingredients from magical creatures or plants. That makes large-scale production practically impossible. And disguising a potion as something Muggle-made is rather difficult. Nevertheless, I highly appreciate your efforts and consider the grant money well spent. Gentlemen, I shall require a detailed description of the potion's ingredients, the brewing method, and a sample. And here is your next grant."
Under the delighted gazes of the twins, a small jingling pouch of coins landed upon a clear patch of table between the test tubes.
"We won't let you down, my lord!" Fred said with a playful salute, pressing his right hand to the cushion perched on his head like a tricorn hat.
"Yes, we'll definitely invent something useful," George nodded enthusiastically.
"I have no doubt of it, gentlemen," Richard said. "But one thing concerns me. You must have bought the ingredients for your research somewhere. Which means you have a way of leaving Hogwarts unnoticed—and returning the same way."
The brothers exchanged a glance. For a moment, it seemed as though a silent duel was taking place between them—or as if they were communicating telepathically.
"Shall we tell him?" Fred asked.
"I think we can," George replied.
"Richard, we do know of a secret passage," Fred said. "And we're willing to show you, provided this remains a secret."
"You have my word," Richard said with a slight nod.
After a brief conversation, the Weasley twins led him through the castle and showed him the entrance to an underground passage that led to the cellar of a house where the sweet shop Honeydukes was located.
They stopped beside the statue of a one-eyed witch on the third floor. Fred cast a quick glance around and, seeing no one nearby, explained:
"To open the passage, you tap the statue with your wand and say the password: Dissendium."
He demonstrated at once.The moment he followed the instructions, the witch statue slid aside. Hidden within the hump on her back was a narrow, dark passageway. Yet in the glow of the corridor torches, Richard could see the tunnel was wide and tall enough for a person to walk through upright
Barely ten seconds passed before the statue slid back into place.
Richard thanked the twins, said his goodbyes, and returned to his dormitory.
***
On Sunday morning, with only a few days left before the Christmas holidays, dreadful weather broke outside. Dark blue clouds swallowed the sky, and snow fell in a dense, unbroken sheet. In such weather, Richard had no desire to go anywhere. He did not even go down for breakfast—fortunately, the kitchens, with their obliging house-elves, were close at hand.
Lounging in an armchair by the common-room fireplace, Richie leafed through a book on Charms, enjoying hot tea and a meat pie.
Suddenly, the prefect's voice pulled him out of his pleasant reverie:
"Grosvenor, the headmaster wishes to see you."
"The headmaster?"
Richard was immensely surprised. He tried to recall what he might have done to warrant an audience with Albus Dumbledore—and found there was quite a list. The first thing that came to mind was the encounter with the troll. It was also possible the summons had something to do with Granger's excursions into the Restricted Section or with Potter's preparations to steal the Philosopher's Stone.
A flicker of unease passed through the young Count.
"Gabriel, do you know why I'm being called?" he asked.
"No," the prefect shook his head. "But the Minister for Magic arrived to see Dumbledore not long ago. Perhaps it's connected somehow."
"The Minister?" Richard raised his brows in astonishment. "That's… odd."
"Come on, I'll walk you there," the prefect said.
"Very well," Richard agreed reluctantly. "Ah… I've got a very bad feeling about this…"
(End of Chapter)
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