"Hm..." Richard murmured without the slightest change in expression. "Well, that's certainly something... By the way, Miss Chester, you're top of your year. Perhaps you know what magical creatures Wrackspurts are?"
"Wrackspurts?!" Chelsea looked utterly bewildered. "I've never heard of them. But I can look them up."
"That would be splendid. How was your summer, Miss Chester?"
"My lord..." The gratitude in the girl's eyes was unmistakable. "Thank you! It was the best summer of my life. I lived in a luxurious room and earned an incredible amount of money. And the work... it was unbelievable! I never imagined I'd be involved in something so ambitious and fascinating. Our team was developing graphene-based composite materials for the armor of mechs, spacesuits, flyers, and spacecraft. My lord..." Hope shone in Chelsea's eyes. "If it's possible, I'd like to continue working in your workshop after I graduate from Hogwarts..."
"Miss Chester, to be perfectly honest, I had hoped you would become my personal assistant. But if scientific and magical research is truly what interests you, then that can certainly be arranged."
Chelsea lit up with happiness like a little sun.
"Thank you! Thank you so very much! My lord, scientific and magical research really is what interests me more... Forgive me for disappointing your expectations."
"Not at all, Miss Chester."
Richie opened the carriage door and, holding it with the hand carrying his walking stick, gestured for her to enter with the other. Chelsea smiled timidly and climbed inside. Richie took the seat opposite her and continued,
"We're all human. We all have our own ambitions and passions. If magical engineering is what truly appeals to you, then so be it. A person contributes far more to society when they're in the right place than when they're forcing themselves to do something they dislike."
The moment Chelsea and Richard settled into the carriage, it set off toward Hogwarts. Chelsea remained silent for a while, but eventually she could no longer contain herself.
"My lord... um... do you happen to need help with any other projects?"
"Such admirable enthusiasm, Miss Chester." Richard regarded her with open approval. "There are enough projects to keep everyone busy. As a matter of fact, I do have one particularly difficult problem. I'm just not sure you'd be willing to tackle it..."
"I'll do my best!" Chelsea leaned forward eagerly, looking at her benefactor with bright, hopeful eyes.
"Then listen carefully. Here are the initial conditions. First: the Protean Charm. Second: a relatively small number of wizards. Third: the need to establish stable communication between more than one hundred billion Muggle devices. We need to devise a method that would allow a small group of wizards to create an enormous number of quantum transmitters."
Chelsea was completely overwhelmed by the problem. For a brief moment, fear and near panic flickered across her face. The task seemed impossibly difficult—almost unreal. But by the end of the carriage ride, she had steeled her resolve. She would devote every ounce of her effort to solving it, no matter what it took. This was her chance at a better life.
In the Great Hall, countless candles floated above the long, laden tables, their warm light gleaming off the golden plates and goblets until they shimmered with every color of the rainbow.
Chelsea immediately headed for the Ravenclaw table, while Richard joined the Hufflepuffs. No sooner had he sat down than Justin Finch-Fletchley bombarded him with a question.
"Richie, where have you been? We thought you'd got lost."
"Everything's fine, Justin," Grosvenor replied. "I don't care for crowds. So I simply waited until everyone had dispersed before making my way to the castle in an almost empty carriage."
Peering through the forest of pointed hats, Richard watched the frightened first-years being led into the Great Hall one by one. Colin Creevey kept turning his head this way and that. For a brief moment, his eyes met Richard's, and the boy immediately broke into a delighted smile.
As she had the previous year, Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat upon the stool. This ancient magical intelligence no longer inspired the same sense of wonder in Richie; after all, his own workshop now housed magical intelligences that were considerably more advanced and efficient.
Professor McGonagall unrolled her parchment.
"Dawson, Jack."
The moment the Hat touched the stout dark-haired boy's head, it cried out,
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
A thunderous round of applause erupted from the Badgers' table.
The old Hat continued sorting the new students.
While the Sorting continued, Richie's attention drifted to Headmaster Dumbledore, who sat at the staff table, watching the ceremony with quiet attentiveness. His long white beard shimmered silver in the candlelight, while the lenses of his half-moon spectacles reflected the flickering flames of hundreds of floating candles.
A few seats away from the Headmaster sat a handsome young man with golden-blond hair, vivid blue eyes, and a dazzling white smile. Unlike the other professors, he wore an impeccably tailored blue suit made from expensive fabric, over which he had draped an aquamarine robe.
Richard had glanced through this year's textbooks only once during the train ride, yet he had recognized the man immediately as Gilderoy Lockhart, the author of the eight books on this year's required reading list. It was hardly difficult—every one of Lockhart's books featured the author's broad, gleaming smile on the cover.
Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, and the other professors all sat in their customary places.
At the very end of the High Table loomed the imposing figure of Hagrid.
Richard found himself thinking:
Strange. Why the discrimination? They seat the terrifying gamekeeper at the staff table, yet the caretaker is left out. They could at least let the old man join them a few times a year during the holidays. He may be grumpy and cantankerous, but he's still a member of the school staff. It must sting even more for Filch, knowing the gamekeeper is welcome while he isn't. At my company, which has grown from one employee to twenty, everyone is invited to company gatherings—from executives to couriers and cleaners. Regardless of their position, people should feel they're part of the team, that the company hasn't forgotten about them.
(End of Chapter)
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