"That's life," Grosvenor replied calmly. "By the way, how would you feel about hiring officers from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to guard Grosvenor Workshop? Something along the lines of a dedicated security service."
"Richard, I have no objection," the red-haired witch replied with a crafty smile. "Come and see me around the seventeenth or eighteenth, and we'll discuss the details. We may not even need to hire anyone. Perhaps we could create a special division dedicated to protecting important magical sites. Your workshop could become one of them, alongside Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, and St Mungo's."
"Excellent." Richie nodded in agreement. He glanced at the crowd of witches and wizards eager to gain the new Minister's attention. "My apologies. I can see you're extremely popular today. I wouldn't dream of monopolising your valuable time. Goodbye, Millicent."
"I'll be delighted to see you again," Bagnold replied. "Goodbye."
Accompanied by Nymphadora, Richard left the Ministry of Magic.
Tonks was stunned. Before her eyes, a twelve-year-old boy had just arranged the creation of an entirely new division within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
This is absurd! Nymphadora thought. How is something like that even possible, especially after exchanging only a handful of sentences?!
"Tonks!"
Richard's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Yes, sir?" she replied.
"We're taking a Portkey to London and paying Gran a visit," Richard continued. "Try to keep your Metamorphmagus abilities under control, and keep your hands away from your wand. Better yet, put it out of sight altogether."
"How come?" Nymphadora asked with mild surprise. "Does your grandmother dislike wizards?"
"I've never asked," Richard replied, "but it's best not to make her security nervous."
Nymphadora was thoroughly puzzled. Just what sort of grandmother does he have? The question occupied her mind until she climbed into the Bentley alongside her employer. Richard addressed the driver.
"Steve, we're off to visit Gran."
"Windsor Castle, sir?" Stephen asked.
"Yes."
At that moment, Nymphadora began to suspect that her employer's grandmother was not quite as ordinary as she had assumed. She blinked and asked,
"Windsor Castle?" she repeated. "Isn't that where the Queen lives?"
"It is," Richard agreed. "That's exactly who we're going to visit."
Nymphadora was so astonished that she nearly dropped her jaw through the floor of the car. It suddenly dawned on her whom Richard had meant by Gran. She spent the entire journey in silence, trying to process the revelation.
First a meeting with the Minister for Magic, then a meeting with the Queen... What's next? Afternoon tea with a suddenly resurrected Merlin?
Tonks clung to the hope that it was all some elaborate joke. But when Richard disappeared into a private study with the Queen while she was left outside with Her Majesty's security detail, every last doubt was swept.
Richie emerged from the study nearly two hours later. He looked dreadful. Pale, exhausted, shoulders slumped, feet dragging along the floor. Nymphadora was deeply surprised by his appearance. Falling into step slightly behind him, she followed as he made his way down the corridor.
"Sir, are you all right?" she finally asked.
"Alive, healthy, and utterly exhausted," Richard muttered. "Tonks, a piece of advice for the future: never negotiate with crowned heads if you value your sanity... By the way, what do you know about the Department of Mysteries?"
"Well..." Nymphadora began, "I know it's located on Level Nine of the Ministry and deals with secret research and development. Nobody knows exactly what they do. The employees are called Unspeakables. There are even rumours that they don't answer to the Minister for Magic."
"Mhm." Richard gave a faint nod. "That's correct. Because the Unspeakables answer directly to Her Majesty. The Minister for Magic knows this, along with only a handful of other witches and wizards. Which means nobody else must ever hear it from you."
"Sir... do you really trust me that much?" Nymphadora stumbled slightly as she walked.
"You could say that," Richie replied.
"You could say that?" Nymphadora echoed in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Tonks, are you familiar with the term secret keeper?" Richard asked.
"Yes, sir." The Metamorphmagus nodded.
"Well then, Tonks, you're now in possession of a state secret," Grosvenor said. "Tomorrow morning you'll report directly to the Department of Mysteries. They'll evaluate your suitability. If you pass, you'll have every chance of becoming an Unspeakable. And after your bodyguard training, you'll undergo additional specialised magical instruction."
"Sir, what about my job as your bodyguard?" Nymphadora asked in astonishment.
"Everything remains in effect," Richie replied. "You'll still be working as my bodyguard. It's just that, if you're lucky, you'll also be registered as an Unspeakable and receive training as a magical special operative—compared to whom Aurors would be left smoking nervously on the sidelines."
"Oh!" Nymphadora's hair and eyes immediately turned sky blue with excitement. "That's brilliant! Thank you, sir."
Richard came to an abrupt halt and looked at the witch intently.
"Don't let me down, Tonks," he said. "I put in a good word for you with Gran."
"If it's with Gran..." Nymphadora drawled meaningfully. "I won't let you down, sir!"
"And one more thing," Richard continued as they resumed walking toward the car. "Tell the Unspeakables that I need a specialist—or preferably several specialists—to investigate undocumented properties of the Killing Curse."
(End of Chapter)
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