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Hermione looked at Harry with a questioning expression, and he pulled out two sheets of paper to scan them in detail.
"That's a good plan," Harry said, eliciting a proud smile from Kate. "But the part about betraying the tent... We won't do that."
"But it's necessary to attract the teams and the racing federation," Kate argued. "Without the rights to their content and the final cut, they won't agree to the level of access needed. At least not in the time frame we require. We could do it without that budget, but... it would take years to convince everyone to speak at a level of honesty that's perceived as authenticity on social media."
"That's not my objection," Harry explained, making a note on her sheet and handing it back. "It's about the publication schedule. Social media operates with minutes of content or not at all. You've outlined dropping hours. I suggest keeping extra content and allowing the federation and teams to sell it to platforms. They're always looking for new content, right?"
"Brilliant," Kate breathed, taking the paper and scanning Harry's notes. "If something goes viral, we have guaranteed offers from at least one of them, and even if nothing goes viral, we can properly steer the producers. She looked hopefully at Harry. "Do you like this idea?"
"I really like it," Harry replied. "We'll have to get you into the system... it might be strange to have my mom as an employee. I mean, if you don't mind working under me?"
"I think I can handle it," she smiled. "Then you should start right away. You and Hermione will work closely on the budget and schedule to ensure it aligns with everything we're planning."
"Alright," she said, and her eyes briefly shifted to Hermione, who looked slightly embarrassed in her place. It was clear that she had assumed she would play a more prominent role, but Harry had to keep his emotions in check, balancing family interests. Matters were already complicated enough in his mind and heart. He couldn't afford to make a mistake, and his stepmother was still in a delicate place. Her current responsibility and task seemed to give her purpose, but Harry hesitated to burden her too much, too quickly.
The newfound peace of mind for his mother didn't last long. An hour later, Harry's concentration was broken when her voice became piercing and shrill. She was shouting, getting angry at Hermione about something related to camera equipment and the younger woman's frugality. It brought a smile to Harry's face, and for a moment, he almost felt like everything was back to normal.
A second later, her voice quieted, the flash of anger disappeared, and her attention shifted elsewhere. Wishing Hermione good luck with her work, Harry returned to the painstaking task of reviewing engineering drawings.
That afternoon, he received word that the Big Three would announce their stance in the evening. Fleur, one of the sisters, called the office and asked if Harry could meet her and her sister for lunch. He was busy, but the sisters were a potent source of information about London events, and he couldn't afford to ignore them.
Hermione and his stepmother were deeply engrossed in planning, and he left them behind, hopping into his Datsun.
Alfonso's was one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and Harry sensed an extra buzz in the conversation as the hostess led him to their table. No one paid him any attention as he navigated through the crowded restaurant, which unnerved him.
He felt a taste of power and found it suited him. Furthermore, he wanted recognition for what they were building. "Patience," he warned himself, "you need to build something before you can expect recognition."
The sisters were already seated, huddled close together on the bench against the wall. They looked uncomfortable, with stiff backs and plastic smiles stretched across their faces, while a overweight man with bushy white mustaches dominated the conversation. When they noticed the hostess leading Harry, their faces visibly brightened. The man turned to look at him, and his jovial mood dimmed as Harry approached, causing him to crane his neck to meet Harry's gaze.
"Good evening, Mr. Slughorn. It seems our date has arrived," the sister on the left said. Harry thought it was Fleur, but the pair were identical, and he had only met them once, making it hard to tell them apart. "Good evening, young man," the stout Mr. Slughorn said, extending his hand to Harry. "You're lucky to share a meal with these two lovely creatures. I'm Horace Slughorn."
Harry, of course, recognized the name. Everyone in England knew the man who headed the business arm of the world's largest producer of family brooms. Horace Slughorn had climbed the career ladder in the company for decades and was a symbol of the ossified, archaic thinking that was ruining English production.
Shaking his hand, Harry allowed him to feel the grip he had built up over a decade on the karting track and saw the skin tightening at the corners of Slughorn's eyes as his pudgy hand crumpled beneath Harry's. Something about Slughorn's black eyes and the commanding atmosphere he exuded over the sisters didn't sit right with Harry.
"Pleasure to meet you, Horace. I'm Harry Potter." Harry noticed recognition dawning in Slughorn's eyes and felt a small satisfaction as his gaze sharpened.
"You've been making quite a stir lately, young man, haven't you? There have been talks in the corridors about your little outfit and the calls you've been making to our suppliers... What are you working on over there?"
"I'm just making sure we weather the upcoming storm," Harry replied, giving nothing away.
Slughorn glanced at the sisters, and his expression soured even further as he backed away. "If I were a gambler, I'd say you're making a big move."
"A small outfit like ours?" Harry said, letting a sly smile play on his lips. "We can barely afford to keep the lights on."
"True," Slughorn said with a laugh, but as he inclined his head and slipped out of the restaurant, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"If you've made a move, it was a foolish one," Fleur said, shaking her head. "Horace is bitter about the merger and petty enough to cause you trouble."
"Maybe twenty years ago," Harry said, taking his seat. "But Horace Slughorn is a symbol of what's wrong with today's industry. When he finds out what I'm planning..." Both sisters raised their eyebrows, and their mouths twisted into eager smiles. "And you'll make sure he does. He's high enough up that they'll listen to him, but opposing what I'm doing will cast Potter as a young, destructive upstart."
"Is this your shot across their bow?" the sister on the right asked. "What's your plan? We're very interested to know."
Harry, of course, didn't plan to tell the sisters everything. His father spoke highly of them, of their knowledge and industry contacts. But he had only met them recently, at the funeral, and couldn't fully trust them.
Both were charming, with small, upturned noses and lips like rosebuds. Their light blond hair framed their faces. Being sisters and nearly identical, they leveraged this fact and their power over men to their advantage, making them a significant pair in the industry. Harry had done some research on them before coming to the restaurant and found plenty of hints suggesting that they were behind most major moves in the past decade.
Fleur talked most of the time, describing the negotiations that had taken place over the past two weeks. Gabrielle chimed in with technical details, and it seemed she had a knack for numbers.
Harry bombarded them with questions, asking for more information, but most importantly, he wanted to know if they were hiding something or trying to lead him to a certain conclusion. Neither of them did, although Gabrielle noticed what Harry was doing and kicked him under the table.
"Don't play games with us, Harry. We're not coming to you with hat in hand, giving you all this information without expecting trust," she said, and her sister, catching onto Harry's strategy, furrowed her brow.
"We've told you everything we know, details you won't find in any article or bulletin. What's the deal with the Witki contract? Why does Potter Industries need metal grips for a year?"
"This name won't last too long," Harry said, making sure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. "For a year, it'll be Potter Racing, and then I'll spin off the main arm as soon as I secure all the contracts and iron out a few final issues."
They looked at each other, and Harry saw excitement in their expressions. Then Fleur looked at him and furrowed her brow.
"Wait, are you thinking of mass broom production?"
"No," Harry smiled, sitting back in his chair. "We're going to take on Zabini with their own drive units."
Their smiles widened as Harry said they were heading to the other side of the pond. Then their eyes widened again, and they looked at each other.
"Zabini?" Fleur asked.
"He's going all out for the World Championships," Gabrielle replied.
"And he thinks he can convince Zabini to hand over drive units to a rookie Englishman."
"He's insane."
"Thinks he's the next Shelby."
"Madness."
"But if it works..."
"A new standard in British automotive."
"A hungry market tired of imports..."
"Brilliant."
Chapters 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25 and 26 are already available at Pat re on.
If you want to support me, read the next chapters of the story and more, I invite you to my
Patreo n .com(slash)BoobsHunter (Remove spaces)