Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 200 Duel Cake Master

Henry nodded; he could sense the deeper meaning in Dumbledore's words.

This former principal was concerned not just with a club, but with the millennia-old, unbridgeable divide between the four colleges.

"Miss Farley also suggested that."

"Gemma Farley?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "She's a smart girl, and among the Slytherin prefects these past few years, she's been quite farsighted. Her father, Edmund Farley, works in the Department of International Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic; he's also a very visionary man."

He took a new box of Lemon Sorbet from the drawer, opened it, and pushed it in front of Henry.

"Want one?"

Henry shook his head.

"Thank you, no need."

Dumbledore took one for himself, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth. He chewed it a couple of times, squinted his eyes, and seemed to be savoring something.

"Henry," he suddenly spoke, his voice becoming more serious, "do you know why I support your idea?"

'

Henry thought for a moment, then looked into Dumbledore's eyes.

"Because students do need to learn practical defensive techniques?"

"That's part of it," Dumbledore said, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, "but not all of it."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"For over a thousand years since Hogwarts was founded, there has always been a divide between the four houses." His tone carried a hint of melancholy, as if he had traversed a long period of time. "Sometimes it was friendly competition, sometimes it was mutual hostility. The quarrel between Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor has had an impact for over a thousand years. Their philosophies differed, their expectations of students differed, and these differences were passed down from generation to generation, becoming prejudices ingrained in their very being."

He turned around and looked at Henry.

"But it would be great if there were a place where students from different colleges could sit together, learn from each other, and exchange ideas. Not to make them forget which college they belong to, but to let them see that people from other colleges are not what they imagine."

Henry nodded, recalling the spat between Harry and Draco, and the wary glances they exchanged as they passed each other in the corridor.

"That's what I think too."

Dumbledore went back to his desk and sat down. He picked up a quill, wrote a few words on a piece of parchment, and then looked up at Henry.

"Have you thought about the venue?"

"The Room of Requirement," Henry said. "The one on the eighth floor."

"You even know that?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hogwarts has many secrets, and I happen to know this one," Henry said with a smile.

Dumbledore looked at him with a questioning gaze, but more so with a gentle appreciation.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlacing once more.

"That room was perfect." There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "I used it a few times when I was younger. It was secluded, spacious, and could be transformed into anything needed. What does a dueling club need? A practice area?"

The audience seating? Protective barriers?

"We need them all." Henry had already gone through all the details in his mind. "I'm still thinking about the specific arrangements. We need some protective spells to prevent them from missing and injuring people. We also need some first aid supplies so that we can treat anyone who gets injured in time. Ideally, we could set up a protective barrier around the area to separate the spectators from the practitioners."

Dumbledore nodded, his own light falling on the flames in the fireplace, which danced and cast a warm glow throughout the room.

"I'll talk to Madam Pomfrey. Tell her to have someone stay at the infirmary every Wednesday night so that anything can be dealt with promptly. She's worked at Hogwarts for decades and has seen all sorts of strange injuries, but she's an expert at treating injuries from duels."

, 7

"Thank you, Principal." Henry bowed slightly.

"You're welcome." Dumbledore waved his hand casually, as if shooing away a fly. "It's what I should do; protecting the students' safety is the headmaster's responsibility."

He paused, then picked up a lemon-flavored shabu-shabu and twirled it in his hand.

"Besides Miss Farley, do you have any other candidates in mind for guidance?"

Henry thought for a moment, and several names came to mind, but he wasn't quite sure about any of them.

"I plan to find some upperclassmen to help; Miss Farley can't handle it all by herself. Draco and the others can help too, but they're not at a high enough level yet—they're only second-years and haven't learned many spells. Ideally, we'd find some people with practical experience, like sixth or seventh-year prefects."

Dumbledore nodded, his own light deepening as if he were recalling something.

"Felius—that is, Professor Flitwick—was a formidable duelist in his youth." A sly glint appeared in his eyes. "He won numerous awards, including the European Wizarding Duel Championship and the runner-up in the World Wizarding Duel Tournament. If he were willing to offer some guidance, it would be of great help to the students."

Henry's eyes lit up. Professor Flitwick, that short professor whose view of the podium was only visible when standing on a stack of books, was actually a dueling expert?

He honestly couldn't remember if it was mentioned in the original work, since he only remembered part of the plot and couldn't recall the details very well.

"Do you think he'll agree?" he asked.

"I think so," Dumbledore said confidently. "Felius loves teaching and enjoys seeing his students progress. He taught Charms at Hogwarts for decades, and what he enjoyed most was watching his students go from not knowing to knowing. And..."

At this point, Dumbledore suppressed a laugh and said, "He also had a lot of complaints about Lockhart's classes."

Henry couldn't help but laugh. He could imagine the helpless yet patient expression on Professor Flitwick's face as he sat in the faculty seat watching Lockhart gesticulate wildly as he told those fabricated stories.

"Should I go find him?"

"No rush," Dumbledore said. "I'll talk to him first. If he agrees, I'll let you know. As for Philius, you have to talk to him in the right way. Just ask him if you'd be willing to come and mentor him," and he might politely decline.

But if you let him know that the students really need help, he won't refuse.

He picked up a quill, wrote a few words on another piece of parchment, then folded the paper and placed it on the corner of the table.

"What are your plans regarding Professor Snape?"

Henry thought for a moment, and Snape's perpetually gloomy face came to mind.

"I plan to ask him. If he's willing to offer guidance, that would be great. If not, that's normal too."

Whether Snape comes or not is not the issue, but whether Henry invites Snape is a matter of attitude.

"You're quite optimistic," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard and laughing heartily.