"Millicent, it's too early. I haven't been awarded anything yet. It's not a given that I'll receive the Nobel Prize. But on December 10th, I'm scheduled to attend a royal reception in Sweden."
"And what's the problem?" The minister's voice sounded slightly surprised, as if she didn't see any problem here.
"Hogwarts..." Richard let out a sad sigh. "Deputy Headmistress McGonagall flatly refused my request to attend a reception for the Nobel Committee. Furthermore, she ignored my father's written request and made extremely unflattering comments about Muggles and 'their prizes.' I don't even know what to do in a situation like this."
A sigh of relief came from the speaker.
"Richard, I don't see any problem with that. I'll issue instructions that you'll be given a day off from Hogwarts on December 10th. I'll also assign you an escort from the Education Department and provide portals to and from Sweden."
"Millicent, you're a delight!" Richard exclaimed. "Thank you!"
- You're welcome, Richard. I was glad to help you.
- It was nice talking to you. All the best.
- Goodbye, Richard.
***
September flew by like an express train. Before Richard knew it, the nineteenth arrived, falling on a Saturday. Luckily, second-year students, like first-years, had this day off, along with Sunday. Students were expected to study and do homework on Saturday. But most of his classmates were mostly entertained: playing Gobstones, Exploding Fool, Wizard Chess, Hide-and-Seek, and Tag. Standard kid's games with a magical twist.
Richie had been preoccupied with finances since early morning. He'd asked his father on Friday to loan Silver his radiophone. According to the cover story for his subordinates, it wasn't a simple radiophone, but a special-edition satellite phone, custom-made to order, making it possible to call even the most remote places, let alone a private school with no service.
After breakfast, Richard sat down in the corner of the Hufflepuff common room and dialed the number of the manager of Rich Junior, or rather, it was Gerald's number.
Mr. Silver's voice was slightly agitated.
- Good morning, sir.
- Mr. Silver, good to hear from you. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I'd like to hear the report. How are things with the hedge fund?
"Um... Just a second..." the rustling of papers came from the speaker. "This week, the stock market experienced Black Wednesday. On the sixteenth, the British Chancellor of the Exchequer raised the interest rate from ten to twelve percent. The pound plummeted against the Deutsche Mark and the US dollar. By two point five-two percent(2.52%) against the former, and by four point four nine percent(4.49%) against the latter. Luckily, we managed to secure a loan and exchange the pounds for dollars much earlier. As a result, the hedge fund was able to recoup its maximum profit on the exchange rate difference. So far, we're up nine million, seven hundred forty-three thousand dollars."
A smile crept involuntarily across Richard's face. His voice was unctuous.
- Excellent. Continue to expect the pound to fall further. What else do you have in store for us, Mr. Silver?
"Your father... The Duke gave orders to work through your hedge fund. He invested a much larger sum..."
Richard was pleasantly surprised. The Duke of Westminster, during his conversation with his son, expressed distrust of Currency Trading. At the same time, he finally decided to join the speculation that Richie had been preparing for for a year.
- Mr. Silver, how much money did my father invest?
The manager's voice trembled:
- F-five billion dollars in credit funds...
Richie was stunned by such a large sum. He hadn't expected such enormous trust from his father. Sweat broke out on the boy's forehead. He wasn't entirely sure that the pound would plummet, while the Deutsche Mark would soar. After all, for a transmigrator, this wasn't quite his world, but a parallel one. But nothing ventured, nothing gained. He imagined what would happen if his father suffered losses, and he became terrified. Richard himself risked losing up to twenty percent of his investment, which was no more than fifty million dollars. And Gerald risked losing a billion!
Suddenly, Richie felt a bitter taste in his mouth and his head began to spin slightly. He was glad to be sitting up. If he'd been standing, he definitely wouldn't have been able to stay on his feet.
"Wonderful..." I had to force the words out, like an extreme sports enthusiast trying to get an SUV stuck in a swamp. "Simply brilliant. Keep up the good work. What do the analysts say?"
Financial analysts predict this situation will persist until at least the end of September. They plan to recover up to ten percent.
- Excellent. Mr. Silver, don't leave this process unattended. What about the power plant?
"Your specialists have arrived at the power plant. They've cordoned off the area and posted security. According to the reports of the expert commission sent to the site, surprisingly, the buildings have been completely restored. The commission members were quite astonished. The specialists say they've never seen a major overhaul completed so quickly. The buildings look as good as new."
- Mr. Silver, what's wrong with the equipment?
"Everything is in perfect order," the manager replied. "The loan has been received, the electrical equipment has been purchased and will be delivered soon. The supplier promises to complete the commissioning work by the end of this year."
"Wonderful," Richard said, feeling the incomparable pleasure that comes with doing something and getting a huge return on it. "One last thing, Mr. Silver, what about the graphene?"
"Graphene, sir..." Silver rustled papers on the other end of the phone. "Everything is great. Numerous research labs and scientific production facilities have placed orders for graphene film. The total order is for one hundred and one million dollars, and orders keep coming in. The sales department has already sent a request to the scientific department for graphene supply to customers. According to the finance department's forecast, by the end of next year we will be able to sell between five hundred and seven hundred million dollars' worth of graphene film."
"The Science Department"-that's the name the Rich Workshop goes by in the world of ordinary people. The Workshop has a formal address, a bank account, its own Squib accountant, and a couple of Squibs for interaction with Rich Junior, or, alternatively, the "head office."
"Mr. Silver, have you received the money for the first batches of graphene yet? Is it really possible to put it into circulation through a hedge fund to speculate on the fall of the pound?"
- Sorry, but no. The money will arrive closer to the end of the year.
"Thank you, Mr. Silver. You make me very happy. Send the phone back to Duke Rich."
In high spirits, Richie dialed another number. Hermione answered almost immediately.
- Hello.
- Miss Granger, good morning. May I ask, are you free now?