Grosvenor collected his newspaper from Darth Vader. While he was distracted, Hermione One had already left the Gryffindor table and made her way out of the Great Hall. Richard followed her. He caught up with Granger near the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower, just as Hermione from the other world was coming down towards them.
"How did it go?" the original Granger asked anxiously.
The time traveller looked irritated and didn't seem to know what to do with her hands.
"You know," she began, "I've realised that I hate Professor McGonagall. It was because of my Transfiguration teacher that I ended up in this world. And because of the one here, I'm stuck here for even longer. She drives me MAD!!!"
"I used to like Professor McGonagall too," Hermione One admitted. "I even wanted to be like her. But now she drives me mad as well..."
"Miss Granger," Richard said, drawing the girls' attention to himself, "you were magnificent! Don't worry, I'll definitely help you. My specialists will begin their research soon."
"Thank you." A warm smile spread across the displaced girl's face. "Richard, I honestly don't know what I'd do without your support."
"Richie, it's time for Divination," the original Hermione interrupted the idyllic moment. "And you, Hermie, need to hurry to Ancient Runes."
His friend seized Richard by the hand and dragged him towards the North Tower. The jealousy was plain on her face. It was only when Richie and Hermione reached the landing outside the Divination classroom that Richard managed to free his hand and say:
"Hermione, there's still half an hour before the lesson. Why were you in such a hurry?"
"It's better to arrive early," she remarked, immediately turning away and beginning to examine the cracks in the stonework.
Richard understood his friend's feelings. He smirked, shook his head slightly and unfolded the newspaper.
His eyebrows shot up almost as soon as he read the first few headlines.
"What the... What the bloody hell are these sanctions?! What the fuck do they mean, the pound has lost a quarter of its value?! What kind of bloody weekend was this?!"
"Richie." Hermione turned towards the boy. "What's happened?"
"What's happened?" He stared at his friend with wide eyes. "What's happened?! Black Friday, that's what's happened!"
Richard shook the newspaper angrily, as though it were personally responsible for everything.
"The United States has imposed sanctions on Britain, specifically targeting my company and my father's company. As a result, the pound has plummeted, along with the value of Grosvenor Group's assets. I've lost around fifty million in value, and that's just the beginning. This world has gone mad!"
"Erm..."
That was not the answer Hermione had been expecting. She wasn't accustomed to high politics or big business. Which was understandable: a teenage girl, especially one living in the wizarding world, had little reason to concern herself with such matters. But she could see just how shocked, upset and furious her friend was, and so Granger found herself worrying about the troubles facing her own country as well.
A mobile phone began ringing in Richard's robe pocket.
"Hello," he said, lifting the handset to his ear.
"Hello, Richie," Gerald's voice came from the speaker. "Son, Her Majesty would like to speak to you. I'll pass the phone to her."
Grosvenor Junior didn't have time to reply before the Queen's voice came through the phone.
"Richard, hello, darling. Is everything all right with you?"
"Good morning, Your Majesty. Thank you, everything's wonderful."
At first, Hermione wanted to ask Richard whom he was speaking to, but when she heard how her friend addressed the caller, she clapped her hands over her mouth, preventing even the slightest sound from escaping her lips.
"Richard," the Queen continued good-naturedly, "we've had a few misunderstandings with some of our longstanding partners. My boy, I've reached agreements with Australia and Canada to build thirty 'environmentally friendly' power stations. It has also been decided that the government will award G Electrics an exclusive contract to convert every thermal power station in our country to environmentally friendly electricity generation."
Richard was stunned by the news. Being something of a paranoid sort, he immediately suspected there was a catch. After all, Britain had around three hundred coal- and gas-fired power stations. Even by the most conservative estimates, that meant at least five billion pounds in annual revenue. And those were extremely conservative estimates. The real figure would be considerably higher. Naturally, the net profit would be smaller once the Queen's share, taxes and other expenses were taken into account, but it would still be a positively obscene sum with nine zeroes.
"Thank you, Your Majesty. I won't let you down," he replied cautiously.
"Yes, yes, darling," Elizabeth II continued. "I'm quite certain I can rely on you. There's just one thing, though..."
That was when Richard realised it wasn't paranoia after all. He was about to be asked for something serious in exchange for SUCH a juicy slice of the pie. Perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a premonition. Had his third eye awakened, by any chance?
"We need you to supply the British Army with a thousand giant humanoid combat robots," the Queen said. "Richie, can you do it within a year? We'll pay part of the sum in gold."
Richard instantly lost the power of speech and froze in utter shock.
"In a year?" he asked hoarsely. "A thousand?!"
"Richie, the Crown will pay," Her Majesty explained. "The price remains the same—five million per unit."
"Your Majesty, at least give me three years!" Grosvenor Junior pleaded. "I can't establish mass production that quickly."
"Richie," Elizabeth II said in a grand, measured tone, "what if you really put your mind to it? Could you manage it in two years? Given the unstable political situation, we desperately need those combat robots right now!"
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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