"No, I'm a boy with the mind of an adult. That's not crazy. And anyway, admit it—geniuses and simply smart people often seem abnormal to ordinary people. For example, instead of playing, a smart girl will sit with a notebook and write something in it."
"Um…" Hermione looked confused. "You won't laugh?"
"I can't promise that. Hermione, if you tell me something funny, I won't hold back my laughter. But I promise that if it's something serious, I'll try not to laugh."
"I…" Hermione thought for a moment, then her face took on a determined expression. "I wrote a letter to the Queen!"
"Hm…" Richard said thoughtfully. "Why?"
"I want to go to the annual meeting of children with the Queen. I wrote her a letter for that, but I don't know what to write."
"Hm… Hermione, are you aware that the Queen receives thousands of letters every year from children who want to go on a trip to Windsor Castle for tea with her? Of course, she doesn't read the letters herself—there's a whole department for that. Only twenty or thirty children from all over the UK are selected."
"I know," the girl said, looking upset. "But what if I get lucky? I so dream of seeing Windsor Castle…"
"Yes, it's beautiful there. Gothic style, plenty of gilding, and armor gleaming with brilliance…"
Hermione's eyes widened. She drew a deep breath and exclaimed indignantly:
"You've been there! You've been there!"
"Yes, I have. Do you really want to go there that badly?"
"Of course! It's every British schoolchild's dream."
"Dreams come true. I'll help you."
"Joker!" Hermione snorted, clearly not believing Richie's words.
Meanwhile, Richard reached into the satchel John had left on a chair in the waiting room. From it he pulled out a monstrous-looking portable phone, extended the antenna, and dialed a number from memory.
"Hello, Uncle Charlie. Good afternoon."
Hermione listened intently to the boy's conversation on that outrageously expensive phone. She had once seen similar devices in a shop and had a very clear idea of their insane price. Her parents run a private clinic where they work as dentists, so they are fairly well-off. Yet even they couldn't afford to buy a portable phone. Meanwhile, here was a boy younger than she was, casually pulling one out and using it as if it were nothing. The sight left Hermione utterly stunned.
Female curiosity made the girl sharpen her ears. A quiet reply in a man's voice drifted from the receiver:
"Hi, Richie. How are you, you little rascal?"
"I'm not a rascal at all!"
"Oh, really? And who ran off with Bill from the reception to go play with toys?"
"It had to be done. Uncle Charlie, you don't understand anything about toys. Bill has an amazing model railway! Any adult would want to play with something like that."
Laughter came through the phone.
"Uncle Charlie, I'm calling about something important."
"Yes, yes, I'm listening."
"I have an acquaintance who wants to attend the Queen's annual tea with children. She's nine, so she fits the age requirement."
"Richie, that's no problem. Although it's not my department, but I'll speak to the tour organizer. What's the girl's name?"
"Hermione. Hermione Granger."
"Mm-hm, got it. I'll need her address and phone number."
Richard covered the phone's microphone with his hand and turned to Hermione.
"What's your address and phone number?"
Hermione couldn't answer. She was so shocked by how effortlessly Richie was arranging a tea with the Queen that her mind refused to accept it. She was sure it had to be a prank.
"Hello? Hermione, Richie is calling you to the phone. Your address and phone number, please."
The girl straightened her back, frowned, pressed her lips together, and snapped in an irritated tone,
"Richie, this is a stupid joke!"
"What joke?" Richard's eyes widened. "I called Uncle Charlie himself just for you! And you can't even appreciate how serious this is…"
Hermione started to get angry, which immediately showed on her pretty face. Richie realized she didn't believe him, so he sighed heavily, shook his head, and said,
"Fine, let me spell it out. Uncle Charlie—for you—is Prince Charles. And he's waiting for your answer right now! Does that make it clear this isn't a prank?"
Hermione's eyebrows drew together. Her face reflected a struggle between wanting to believe the boy and deep skepticism. In the end, like any little girl, she chose to believe in a miracle. And the realization shocked her. The color drained from her fair skin.
How can this be? If this boy calls Prince Charles his uncle and uses such an expensive phone… then who is he? A prince? Oh! And I was so rude to him…
"Hermione!" Richie called to the girl, who had sunk into her thoughts.
"Oh—right! The address!" Hermione jolted. "Write it down…"
(End of Chapter)
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