Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 201 High Emotional Intelligence

"Professor Snape didn't like that," Henry said. "He preferred potions, he preferred quiet, and he didn't like watching a bunch of students waving wands at each other. And his teaching style, well, wasn't really suitable for beginners."

This is certainly a statement made with high emotional intelligence.

"You're right." Dumbledore toyed with the lemon Olaf in his hand. "But you can still ask him. He might refuse, but at least he'll know what you're doing. Severus may seem cold, but he cares a lot about Slytherin students. He knows you're doing something meaningful, and even if he doesn't come to guide you, he won't object."

Henry nodded. He stood up, ready to take his leave.

"That's all for now. I'll come back to you when I hear from Professor Flitwick."

Dumbledore also stood up, walked around the desk, and came to him.

He reached out and patted Henry on the shoulder.

"Henry, I'm really glad you did this. Not because of the Duel Club itself, but because of the way you did it—you thought of everyone, not just the people in your own college."

Henry didn't speak, he just nodded.

When I came out of the principal's office, it was already completely dark.

In the distance, the sounds of students laughing and talking as they returned to the common room could be heard, occasionally interspersed with the hooting of an owl and the snoring of someone in a portrait.

Henry was walking back to the cellar, his mind still wandering to the details of the club.

With the venue secured, the Requirement Room is the ideal location. It's secluded, won't disturb other students, and can be moved around as needed.

We also have some mentors in mind; Miss Farley has already agreed, and there's also hope with Professor Flitwick.

Dumbledore is also helping to coordinate security measures—Madame Pomfrey will arrange for someone to be on duty, and Professor Flitwick can help set up protective spells.

The rest is publicity and specific organizational work.

As he was thinking, he unknowingly walked to the entrance of the cellar.

"Pureblood".

A crack appeared in the stone wall, revealing the entrance to the common lounge.

A few younger students were playing Wizard's Chess in a corner, the pieces arguing quietly. A few girls sat by the window, watching the fish swim in the Black Lake, occasionally letting out a gasp of surprise.

Draco was the first to see him.

"Henry! Where have you been? We've been looking for you for ages." He stood up from the sofa, nearly knocking over his teacup.

"I had something to do." Henry walked over and sat down in the armchair. "I chatted with Miss Farley for a while, and then went to see Dumbledore."

Draco's expression shifted slightly, as if he was hesitating whether to ask more.

"Dumbledore? What do you want with him?"

"I had an idea," Henry said, leaning back in his chair. "It was about starting a dueling club."

The common room fell silent; the chess players stopped playing, and the girl by the window turned her head.

Henry picked up the teapot on the coffee table and poured himself a cup of tea.

"I asked Miss Farley for guidance. She agreed."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Gemma Farley? She agreed?"

"Agreed." Henry took a sip of tea. "Miss Farley and Professor Dumbledore both suggested that I not limit myself to Slytherin, but also that other houses participate in this dueling club."

The people around them exchanged glances, their expressions complex. Daphne put down her book and looked at Henry.

"Then... will the Gryffindors come too?" she asked.

"Of course," Henry said with a smile, "everyone can come."

The common room fell silent again, the fire crackling in the fireplace as if it too were pondering the answer.

"Are you serious?" Theodore looked up from the corner.

"Seriously," Henry said calmly.

Draco was silent for a moment, then said, "My father was right."

"What did your father say?" Henry asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Draco thought for a moment, as if recalling his father's exact words.

He said that sometimes, leaving the door open is more useful than closing it.

Henry smiled.

Lucius Malfoy was indeed a clever man.

"Your father is very intelligent."

Draco's expression was somewhat complicated, as if he wanted to refute but couldn't find a reason. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he just picked up his teacup and pretended to drink tea.

Pansy asked from the side, "So—when does this club start?"

"Next Wednesday," Henry said, "seven o'clock in the evening, eighth floor."

"The eighth floor?" Daphne asked, her brows furrowing slightly. "What's on the eighth floor? I don't remember there being any large rooms there."

"You'll find out when the time comes," Henry said with a mysterious smile.

The group chatted for a while longer and finalized the basic plan.

Draco is in charge of propaganda within Slytherin; he knows the most people and his words carry weight. Pansy is in charge of Ravenclaw; she gets along well with several of the Ravenclaw girls. Daphne is in charge of Hufflepuff; she has a gentle personality, and the Hufflepuffs have a good impression of her. As for Gryffindor, Henry plans to speak to them himself.

"Are you going to find Potter?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Henry said. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Draco finally shook his head and said.

Theodore rolled his eyes so hard they almost showed the back of his head.

The next morning, Henry saw Harry while having breakfast in the Great Hall.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron were talking. Ron held a piece of bread, eating and nodding, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster's. Hermione sat opposite them, holding a book that wasn't Lockhart's anymore, but a book about advanced defense magic, seemingly borrowed from the library, its spine somewhat worn.

Henry carried the pumpkin juice over. The Great Hall was bustling with activity; owls flew overhead, delivering letters, packages, and newspapers. One owl flew too low, its wing brushing against a Hufflepuff girl's pumpkin juice, causing a small commotion.

"Harry".

Harry looked up, saw Henry, and paused for a moment.

He was spreading butter on bread, the knife frozen in mid-air.

"Henry? What's wrong?"

Henry sat down opposite him and placed the pumpkin juice on the table.

There's something I want to tell you.

Ron stopped chewing and looked at him curiously.

Hermione also put down her book and clipped the bookmark to her pocket.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I'm planning to start a dueling club," Henry said. "Every Wednesday night at seven o'clock, on the eighth floor. Are you interested?"

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment.

"Duel Club?"

“Yes,” Henry said. “You saw Professor Lockhart’s class; you won’t learn anything from him. He couldn’t even handle a bunch of elves, let alone teach us how to deal with real dark magic.”

Ron said from the side, "So you mean—"