Harry Potter: House Magus

[POV SWITCH: 3RD PERSON]

The Hogwarts Express whistled as it neared the station, the sound sharp and echoing across the platform, bathed in the fading summer light. The train slowed, brakes screeching as plumes of white steam curled upward, wrapping the crowd in mist. Parents craned their necks, calling out for their children, while students leaned out the windows to wave, their laughter mixing with the metallic hiss of the engine. The air smelled of coal, steel, and the excitement of returning home.

Richard stood apart from the chaos, his presence calm amid the noise. His trunk was already in hand, perfectly stacked and prepared. On his shoulder perched Coeus and Hera, their twin gazes, one cold and calculating, the other sharp with amusement, scanned the crowd. They watched everything, from the bustling students to the parents exchanging hugs, with a strange mix of curiosity and disdain. They, like their master, preferred to observe.

As the train lurched to its final stop, the compartment doors slid open, and students spilt into the corridor. Colin clapped Richard on the shoulder with a grin, a gesture that had become familiar over the year.

"See you soon, Richard. Don't disappear on us this summer."

Richard's expression softened slightly, just enough for those who knew him to see. "You'll hear from me," he said, his tone calm, almost assured.

Arjun, Malcolm, and Elliot followed with their own goodbyes, each promising to write, each showing in their own way how deeply they had come to respect him. Richard gave a faint nod to each, his voice steady and final. "Stay sharp."

As they parted, Coeus leaned close to his ear, her voice smooth and dark.

"These little children will be beneficial for your future, Father."

Hera, with her sharp, mocking tone, snickered. "Can I eat them?"

Richard didn't so much as blink, only letting a small, knowing smile cross his lips. Without another word, he stepped off the train. The crowd instinctively shifted around him, parting slightly as he moved with silent purpose, weaving through the noise without being touched by it.

Once clear of the bustling station, he stopped briefly and turned to his familiar.

"Fly ahead. Stay hidden and follow me back," he ordered softly.

Coeus and Hera gave an almost synchronised cry, a sound that turned a few heads nearby. Then, with a powerful beat of their midnight wings, they rose into the sky, vanishing into the twilight like living shadows.

Waiting near the carriages stood Rupert, tall, composed, and dignified in his dark coat. His sharp eyes scanned the platform until they found Richard. The moment he approached, Rupert's stern expression softened, if only slightly.

"Richard," he greeted warmly, extending a hand.

"Rupert," Richard replied, shaking it with practised ease. Then, with a rare gesture, he stepped forward and pulled Rupert briefly into a hug. The tension in Rupert's shoulders eased, a subtle but unmistakable relief washing over him.

The journey back to the estate was quiet, the sounds of wheels crunching against the ground filling the pauses in their conversation. Rupert asked about school, his questions direct but not prying. Richard answered with the same precision he approached everything: that his classes had gone well, that he had made friends worth keeping, and that Hogwarts had been… interesting.

Rupert listened, pride threaded through his composed demeanour. There was no need for grand declarations between them; mutual understanding was enough.

By the time they reached their home, the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the manicured grounds. Inside, the familiar scent of polished wood, aged leather, and faint traces of old books greeted Richard like an old friend.

That night, he slept deeply in his own bed, the weight of Hogwarts lifted, if only temporarily. Coeus and Hera perched near the window, their twin heads watching the darkened estate with vigilant eyes. Richard's owl was perched on a tree outside. The stars outside shimmered faintly, and under their watchful gaze, Richard drifted off into the kind of sleep only home could bring.

The next morning, Richard rose before the first rays of sunlight crept through his curtains. The estate was silent, its long hallways bathed in the pale yellow of early dawn. The familiar rhythm of his routine carried over effortlessly from Hogwarts, stretching with precision, controlling his breathing, and moving through his exercises with the same quiet focus that had set him apart during the school year. Each movement felt sharper now, honed by months of training in the castle's solitude.

Afterwards, he stepped into the marble-tiled bathroom, steam curling in the air as he showered. The faint scent of cedar soap filled the space, grounding him back in the comfort of home. When he emerged, he dried off briskly and dressed, not in the student robes that had become his second skin, but in a tailored black suit that fit him perfectly, the cut sharp and the fabric smooth. The contrast against his pale complexion and composed demeanour was striking; he looked less like a schoolboy and more like a young Duke in training.

Breakfast with Rupert was quiet, but not cold. They sat at the long oak table in the sunlit dining hall, the light filtering through tall windows to dance across silverware and fine china. Rupert sipped his tea as he listened to Richard outline how the professors had been, how his studies were advancing, how friendships were forming among his peers. Rupert asked questions sparingly, but each one was thoughtful, and Richard answered each with calm precision. Their conversations carried no wasted words; they spoke like two men who understood the value of silence.

When the meal was done, Richard stood, adjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket. He stepped out onto the front steps of the estate, the cool morning air brushing against his face. Above, Coeus and Hera swooped down from their perch on the rooftop, circling him once with a low, rumbling cry. The wind stirred as their wings beat the air, and for a moment, the sight of them against the morning sky was both fearsome and beautiful.

"You're coming with me today," Richard said quietly. Both heads nodded in unison, understanding his intent.

As he descended the steps, the two-headed familiar rose higher, gliding elegantly before landing on the wrought-iron gate. Their twin gazes, one calculating, one sharp with amusement, followed his every move as he walked toward the automobile. The driver tipped his hat respectfully as Richard approached.

With a final glance back at the estate, Richard stepped through the back door. The door closed with a soft click, and the wheels began to turn, carrying him away from the manor. Above, Coeus and Hera launched themselves into the sky, circling once before following from a distance, their dark silhouettes cutting across the morning light.

The day had only begun, and already, Richard moved with the quiet assurance of someone who knew exactly where each step would lead.

The offices of his growing enterprise were housed in a polished stone building near the heart of the city, discreet yet unmistakably prosperous. The moment Richard stepped through the glass doors, the hum of work shifted almost imperceptibly. Typing slowed, voices lowered. Employees who remember their young boss glanced up from their desks, some standing a little straighter, others offering hurried nods of acknowledgement.

Unlike Hogwarts, where whispers trailed behind him, here there was only the efficient hum of work and the occasional sharp click of heels against the floor. Richard moved with the same silent authority he carried at school, his gaze sweeping the room as if absorbing every detail.

"Good morning," Richard said evenly as he passed through the rows, his tone calm yet carrying the weight of authority. "I trust everything is running smoothly."

"Yes, sir," one clerk replied quickly, adjusting her spectacles as she tried to keep her voice steady. Another shuffled papers nervously. Richard's face remained impassive, but beneath the surface, his improved mind arts brushed lightly against their thoughts, stress about deadlines, pride in recent successes, and minor concerns about upcoming reports. All of it filed away in the back of his mind.

Everyone continued to work with renewed vigour under his watchful presence, except for one employee. A tall man in a neatly pressed suit, who Richard recognised as Andrew Keller, now promoted to floor manager, clocked his arrival and immediately moved toward him. Keller's stride was confident, but not arrogant; he had grown under Richard's influence, rising from clerk to manager since the last time Richard had been here.

"Mr. Russo," Keller greeted, his voice steady but carrying a respectful edge. "Welcome back. It's good to see you."

Richard regarded him calmly, eyes taking in the slight improvements, the sharper posture, the firmer handshake. "Keller," he said with a faint nod. "I see you've adjusted well to your new role."

Keller allowed himself a small, proud smile. "I've done my best. The team's been pushing hard these past months. Productivity is up, and we've smoothed out the bottlenecks in distribution like you suggested before you left."

Richard tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, but his voice carrying the faintest trace of approval. "Good. Results matter more than effort."

Keller nodded, the compliment, subtle as it was, landing with the weight of something valuable. "I've also compiled a report of our progress since you went abroad. There are some numbers I think you'll want to see personally."

"I'll review it," Richard replied smoothly. "Bring it to my office in an hour."

"Yes, sir." Keller stepped back, but not without one last glance at Richard, part respect, part curiosity, as though he was still trying to figure out the boy who, despite his age, commanded the entire building.

As Keller returned to his duties, Richard continued his measured walk through the office, his mind skimming over the surface feelings of those he passed. Careful not to intrude too deeply, just enough to catch the surface impressions that told him everything he needed to know. Loyalty radiated from some, a steady pulse of trust in the structure he had built. Productivity flowed like a hum beneath the thoughts of most, the satisfaction of work done well. Minor anxieties about deadlines flickered like candle flames, easily managed, nothing dangerous.

But here and there, he sensed something else. A shadow of hesitation, concerns about the new investment schedule, quiet whispers of doubt about the success of a recently launched project. These thoughts were buried under layers of professionalism, but they slipped through in brief flashes. Richard noted them all without a word, storing them as carefully as figures on a balance sheet. His mental ledger was as meticulous as the financial ones he would soon review..

When he reached his office, he closed the heavy oak door behind him, shutting out the steady rhythm of the workplace. The room greeted him with a familiar scent of leather, ink, and the faint aroma of polished wood. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling gold across the massive desk stacked neatly with ledgers and reports waiting for his eyes.

Pulling the first ledger toward him, Richard opened it with deliberate care, the crisp pages reflecting months of meticulous record-keeping. Columns of neat handwriting stretched across the paper, detailing profits, expenses, and projections, each number telling its own story.

His eyes moved quickly, yet nothing escaped them. Patterns emerged like threads in a web: where profits peaked, where they dipped, where a minor adjustment would turn weakness into strength. Every minor discrepancy stood out to him like a flaw in glass, unacceptable, but easily corrected. His quill moved with precision, making notations in the margins, adjusting predictions where necessary.

The numbers pleased him. Profits were steady. Investments were stable. The expansions he had advised before leaving for Hogwarts were not only holding, they were growing. Quietly, efficiently, the enterprise was thriving, just as he had planned.

The door opened quietly, breaking the silence. Rupert stepped inside, his figure framed by the light from the hallway. He held a file in one hand and wore a faint, approving smile, the kind that said he already knew what Richard would find.

"They've missed your oversight," Rupert said, his voice calm, carrying that perfect balance of pride and calculation that defined him.

Richard didn't look up immediately. He finished a notation with deliberate care, then set the quill aside. "Well, I shouldn't have too."

Rupert chuckled softly, stepping closer. "They're doing fine, and they'll only get better through the coming years."

Richard finally looked up, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "I think so too," he corrected, closing the ledger with a quiet thump that echoed faintly in the room.

For a brief moment, the two locked eyes, Rupert's filled with approval, Richard's with cold certainty. The sunlight bathed the room in gold, catching the edges of the closed ledger. To anyone else, it was just a book of numbers. To Richard, it was all his effort in black and white.

After finishing his review of the ledgers, Richard rose from his chair, the final ray of sunlight slipping across the office floor. With every step, his plan for the day shifted into its next phase. He summoned Coeus and Hera; the two-headed familiar glided silently to the window, perching on the sill with watchful eyes.

"Stay here for now," Richard said softly. Coeus inclined her head, while Hera gave a low, approving hiss.

Moments later, he was seated in the back of a sleek, black automobile bound for Charing Cross Road. The streets outside blurred past. After telling the driver to stay put, he entered Diagon Alley through The Leaky Cauldron. By the time he arrived, the sun had set in the crooked alleys. He stepped out without hesitation, drawing only a few curious glances as he strode toward the towering white structure of Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

The goblin guards at the doors regarded him with their usual cold suspicion, but Richard met their stares evenly and walked inside. The marbled hall shimmered with torchlight, polished to a mirror shine. Lines of witches and wizards queued before the counters where goblins scribbled in ledgers, weighed coins, and exchanged sharp words with impatient clients.

Richard approached the nearest counter with quiet authority. The goblin, small and sharp-eyed, glanced up from his records.

"Name?" the goblin asked, his voice rasping like parchment.

"Richard Magus. I am here to review my accounts."

The goblin's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he nodded briskly and motioned for Richard to follow. They walked past rows of desks into a side room where he was told to wait. Not long after, a different goblin entered with a thick ledger.

"Afternoon, Mr. Magus," the elderly goblin said, sitting down opposite him, passing him the ledger. "Your vault records."

Richard accepted the ledger, scanning the documents laid before him. His mind immediately slipped into the same cold efficiency he'd used in his own office. The steady flow of galleons into his account and the steady vault fee exiting.

"Withdrawals minimal," the goblin observed, observing Richard's expression. "Growth steady, unusual for Muggle-borns, I assume your family is wealthy in the Muggle World."

Richard didn't look up. "Yes, we are."

The goblin's mouth curled into something that might have been a smirk, or perhaps a sneer. "Well, although we accept Muggle money, that is usually with the sole purpose of buying gold and silver, which, as one might think, is very inefficient."

"Seeing as you're from a wealthy family, we could bypass your monthly restriction by buying gold, silver and bronze straight from you. And while I have you here and seeing the steady flow of exchange, we can upgrade your vault, which would increase the security, for an additional 5 galleons, for a total of 10 galleons monthly. What are your thoughts?"

When he finished, Richard closed the ledger and slid it back across the table. "That can be arranged, yes, upgrade the vault, and I'll see what we have that could be exchanged."

The goblin nodded slowly, the glint in his eye betraying a hint of greed. "It will be done."

As he left the bank, the last light of day bathed the marble steps in gold. Richard descended them with the same quiet composure he always carried, the weight of his plans settling firmly on his shoulders.

Gringotts was satisfied. His assets were secure, no inconsistencies.

Everything was in order, the employees refocused, the ledgers balanced, the enterprise advancing under his unseen hand.

And Richard Magus intended to keep moving forward.

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