An agitated Sirius sprang from his chair. He began pacing nervously around the room. Finally coming to a halt, he turned his gaze towards Grosvenor's face, which remained about as expressive as a paving stone.
"What are we supposed to do? My lord, do you have any ideas?"
"Better than that, Mr Black." Inwardly, Richard rejoiced. He felt like a fisherman whose quarry had swallowed the bait. "I have a plan!"
"A plan?" Sirius leaned forwards and looked hopefully at the boy.
Black believed that, despite his age, this young man was capable of a great deal. He believed the entire story, even though it sounded utterly insane.
"Mr Black, I'm establishing a secret laboratory where the properties of Horcruxes and methods of counteracting their harmful effects will be studied. But..."
"But?!" Hope flared within Sirius.
"Such research, as you understand, should be conducted in the strictest secrecy from the entire world. It is"—Richie brought his thumb and forefinger almost together—"ever so slightly illegal..."
"Slightly?" Black burst into mad, barking laughter. "Slightly! It's only worth a few Dementors' Kisses!"
"Precisely." Richie raised the corners of his mouth in the barest suggestion of a smile. "I'm firmly opposed to xenophilia—no kissing magical creatures..."
Once again, Sirius couldn't contain his laughter. After calming down, he sat back in his chair and asked seriously:
"My lord, you want me to conduct this research? For Prongslet, I'll do it!"
"I'm glad, Mr Black, that you understand how important this is and are willing to do your part to save Harry. But let's be frank—you'd hardly make a good researcher. No, Mr Black."
Sirius frowned and asked:
"Then what? Why did you tell me all this?"
"Mr Black, I need a wizard I can trust. Someone who will be responsible for maintaining secrecy. The head of a clandestine security service."
"A security service? My lord, I'm not entirely sure I understand... No, I understand the general idea, but what exactly would I be expected to do?"
"It's simple, Mr Black." Richard was exultant, realising that Sirius was already willing to agree. "We'll enter into a magical contract that closes every possible loophole anyone clever might use to extract information from you—Veritaserum slipped into your tea, love potions, and other dirty tricks."
Sirius nodded, indicating his agreement to the contract. Grosvenor barely restrained a triumphant smile and continued:
"Hire wizards and Squibs, recruit them, bind them with similar contracts, make sure no one ever learns about the laboratory—for example, by becoming the Secret Keeper for a Fidelius Charm..."
Richard spoke with Sirius Black for a long while after that, but in the end both wizards came away satisfied. Black gained a purpose in life—saving his godson—a highly paid job, and an enormous budget with which to accomplish his goal. Grosvenor gained a chance to save his own life. He had done his best to protect himself from every angle. Even if the laboratory were discovered, officially, he would have nothing to do with it.
***
Richard had not forgotten Lucius Malfoy's attempt to harm his closest allies. Slipping a Horcrux to a little girl went beyond every conceivable boundary. Young Grosvenor quite reasonably regarded the act as a challenge, a blow aimed directly at him. Blows were meant to be answered, not met by turning the other cheek.
Richard did not consider himself vindictive. He could tolerate a great deal, but he had been trained by the sharks of the business world. One lesson the boy had learnt from them was simple: if someone tried to get at you using dirty methods, there had to be a response, otherwise your competitors would sense weakness. Before you knew it, the business wouldn't belong to you any more.
Until now, Richard simply hadn't had time to deal with Malfoy, but thanks to Black, the boy had gained some free time. Not much, but more than enough to consider possible reprisals and make a few decisions.
***
During his time at Hogwarts, Richard had lost his physical fitness and his edge. Among other things, he spent that summer training intensively in fencing with a trusted personal instructor.
For an ordinary person, a couple of months would hardly have been enough to get back into proper shape. Richard, however, could scarcely be called an ordinary person. The first thing he did was consult the wizarding healers at St Mungo's Hospital. From them, he also purchased potions that worked rather like steroids, accelerating muscle growth but without any harmful effects on the body. The only requirement was physical exercise, and Grosvenor Junior was getting more than enough of that. Another potion allowed him to recover quickly after training. A third magical concoction served as something akin to a vitamin and protein shake.
Wizards were lazy by nature. Most of them would rather be fat or thin than have muscles they actually had to exercise for, even if those muscles would grow at an incredible rate and fat would burn several times faster with the help of potions than without them. Besides, British wizards looked down on anything Muggle. Physical exercise fell squarely into the category of Muggle activities: those poor Muggles had to wear themselves out training, while wizards had magic for everything. Of course, there were some wizards who trained their bodies—otherwise, such potions would never have existed in the first place. But they were rare exceptions.
In any case, Richie's former physical condition returned after only a couple of weeks of intensive fencing and promised to improve considerably by the end of the summer. Regaining his old skill, however, proved far more difficult. The boy felt like a wooden puppet that, through some absurd twist of fate, had been expected to wield a rapier.
After another training session, Richard took the potions prescribed by his healer and was about to head for the shower when his valet intercepted him.
"Master Richie," John said politely, "may I remind you that you have an appointment with the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State at the Department of the Environment in half an hour."
"Thank you, John. That gives me just enough time to shower and change."
(End of Chapter)
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