Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 323 Competition

"Mascara?" Ron asked, puzzled. "Do you need mascara for a competition?"

"Beauxbatons' aesthetic is different from Hogwarts'," Blaise said, chewing on his licorice wand. "They see beauty itself as a weapon."

"But I think she's doing more than just grooming herself," Hermione commented. "She's a smart woman; she won't rely on her appearance alone to deal with dragons."

"So what spell do you think she'll use?" Harry asked.

Hermione thought for a moment: "It might be some kind of mental interference spell, or a spell that creates illusions. She's half Veela, and this isn't just about appearance; it means she has a natural ability to influence the emotions of those around her. If she could amplify this ability and use it on dragons, she might be able to get the golden egg without facing them directly."

"That's very difficult," Henry said. "Dragons are much more resistant to magic than humans, and ordinary interference spells are very ineffective against them. She needs to find the dragon's weakness and a suitable way to cast the spell to achieve the effect she wants."

"Do you think she has any weaknesses?" Harry asked.

“Every wizard has a weakness,” Henry said. “Fleur’s weakness might be her over-reliance on the advantages of her bloodline. If she encounters a dragon that doesn’t respond well to that, or a situation where her Veela bloodline doesn’t work, she might be caught off guard.”

"Like a Hungarian hornet," Draco said. "A Hungarian hornet doesn't care what you look like."

"So Cedric's choice is more reliable," Henry said. "He doesn't rely on special abilities, but on solid fundamentals. That kind of person won't let you down at crucial moments."

"So where exactly does Hogwarts' home advantage manifest itself?" Hermione asked.

"Referees," Henry said. "Each of the three school principals will appoint one referee, and the remaining referees will be appointed by the Ministry of Magic."

However, the tournament takes place at Hogwarts, and most of the most experienced staff members also come from Hogwarts. Furthermore, Headmaster Dumbledore has a greater influence on the tournament format than the other two headmasters. These factors don't directly add points, but they do affect the course of the match.

"For example?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"For example, if the Hogwarts warriors encounter an unexpected situation during a match, Headmaster Dumbledore can request a pause in the game, which is within the rules. Headmasters of other schools can also make such requests, but their influence on the scene is not as great as Headmaster Dumbledore's."

Hermione nodded slowly, then asked, "Your Highness, what do you think the second project will be?"

"I don't know yet," Henry said. "But according to the tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, the second event is usually more complicated than the first. The first event tests courage and adaptability, while the second tests intelligence and patience."

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"What about the third project?"

"The third project is usually comprehensive," Henry said. "It takes place in a closed environment where the obstacles involve all the abilities tested in the first two projects."

"It sounds like I'm facing three increasingly difficult challenges in a row." Harry put down his teacup, the bottom of which made a soft sound as it hit the table.

“Yes,” Henry said. “So the fact that you can sit here drinking tea instead of shivering in the common room already puts you far ahead of everyone else.”

Ron took another cookie: "So what do you think Harry needs to prepare the most?"

"Mental state," Henry said. "He has the technique, and he has the plan. What he needs most now is to stay calm before the competition, stay composed during the competition, and stay clear-headed after the competition. Some people can do the first two, but not the third. His condition after the competition is equally important because it will affect his preparation for the next event."

"What if I mess it up?" Harry asked.

"So what if you mess up?" Henry said. "Anyone can mess up anything. The point is, you can keep going after you mess up. Cedric doesn't stop because he messed up, and neither does Krum. If you mess up, you can't stop."

Harry was silent for a moment, then picked up his teacup and took another sip.

"Your Highness, have you ever messed up anything?"

"Of course," Henry smiled.

"What is it?"

"At Buckingham Palace, I couldn't tell the difference between a spoon and a fork, and I got a severe scolding as a result," Henry said.

"So how did you adjust it back then?" Draco asked curiously.

"I thought to myself, I've already lost face, so doing it again won't be any more embarrassing. Since I've already lost face once, I might as well do it better the second time," Henry said. "If you make a mistake, just correct it; don't overthink it."

Harry laughed: "Your Highness, that sounds a bit like Muggle platitudes."

"Muggle inspirational quotes can be useful sometimes," Henry said, "provided you don't think of them as inspirational quotes when you're listening to them."

Everyone in the tea room laughed. Ron, with a cookie in his mouth, almost choked while laughing and quickly swallowed a mouthful of tea.

By the end of the tea party, Harry was noticeably more relaxed than when he arrived.

As he stood up, he even brushed off non-existent biscuit crumbs from his robe and smiled at Henry—a smile exactly like the one he wore before taking off on the Quidditch pitch, a smile that was a little nervous, but mostly filled with eager excitement.

"Your Highness, thank you for the tea today," Harry said. "I feel much better."

"You're welcome." Henry leaned back in his chair, holding a slightly cooled teacup. "If you still want to talk to someone before next Tuesday, you can come anytime."

"I will." Harry nodded, then walked out of the classroom with Ron and Hermione.

The door closed gently behind them, and the room fell silent.

Draco leaned back in his chair, legs crossed, twirling an empty teacup in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Your Highness," he began, "do you really think Potter came here today to have tea with you?"

"You don't think so?"

"I think it is," Draco said, "but he's also here to confirm some things with you."

"for example?"

"For example, whether his preparations were correct, whether he's heading in the right direction, and whether the things he's worried about are actually worth worrying about." Draco placed his teacup on the coffee table. "He says he's here to chat with you, but actually he's here to confirm that what he's doing is right. He's looking for validation."

"So do you think he achieved his goal?" Henry asked.

“Of course,” Draco said. “Everything you tell him only reinforces his belief that he’s on the right track. He’s not the same person leaving the house now as he is coming in.”

Theodore closed his notebook by the window: "It's definitely different. His steps were a little heavy when he came in, but noticeably lighter when he left."

"And he ate cookies," Pansy said. "He was so nervous when he came in, like he was going to Potions class; but when he came out, he was obviously more relaxed than if he were going to Magical Creatures Conservation class."

"You have a very keen eye," Blaise said.

Henry smiled and placed the teacup back on the tray: "That means today's tea was effective."

"Your Highness," Blaise asked, "do you think Potter can defeat those dragons in Tuesday's match?"

"I think he can," Henry said. "He's experienced things far more terrifying than dragons since he was a child."

"What's wrong?" Blaise asked with interest. "Is it about being chased by that mysterious person?"

"No, that's not it. Didn't you know? Before he came to Hogwarts, he was kept in a Muggle family, living under the stairs and sleeping in a cupboard for ten years," Henry said. "He survived that, so a dragon is just another kind of opponent for him."

Blaise paused for a moment, clearly hearing about this for the first time.

"Well—he really did pull through," Blaise said. "A person who can survive that kind of environment certainly isn't afraid of a dragon."

"So don't underestimate him," Henry said.

Over the next few days, a palpable tension permeated Hogwarts.

The chatter in the hallway was much quieter than usual. Occasionally, you could hear someone say the word "dragon" and then quickly lower their voice, as if they were afraid of being caught by the prefect discussing something they shouldn't be discussing.

On Monday evening, Henry ran into Hermione in the library.

She sat by the window, with at least six books spread out on the table in front of her, each turned to a specific page, and a quill pen clipped in a notebook, the ink still wet.

"Your Highness." Hermione looked up and saw Henry approaching. She put down her quill and rubbed her wrist.

"Still researching?" Henry sat down opposite her.

"I'm looking up some additional information," Hermione said. "Harry said he doesn't need me to help him with the complete tactical plan; he said he's already figured out how to fly. But he needs me to help him look up some physiological data about dragons, such as how long it takes them to turn their heads, how long the intervals are between their fire breaths, and the frequency of their wing flapping—this data can help him predict the dragons' movements."

"How's the investigation going?"

"I've come to some conclusions." Hermione opened a book called "Dragon Behaviour" and pointed to a page. "The Hungarian Hornbill has a preparation time before it breathes fire. Its neck retracts first, its throat bulges, and then the flames appear. If Harry can react when it retracts its neck, he can avoid the fire before it breathes it."

"What can you do in that little bit of time?"

"That's enough time for him to make a dive or turn. On a Quidditch pitch, that's enough time to complete a full Lonski feint," Hermione said. "If he can anticipate the dragon's fire breath, he's faster than it."

Henry looked at her and suddenly smiled: "Hermione, have you ever thought that if one day you don't work for the Ministry of Magic, you could become a tactical analyst?"

Hermione raised her chin, and although she spoke modestly, it was clear that she was happy: "I just enjoy organizing documents."

"Being able to organize information into solutions that can be used in practice is not just something that can be explained by liking to organize information," Henry said. "Harry is lucky to have you."

Hermione lowered her head, her face slightly flushed.

She turned a page of the book, pretending to read what was on that page.

"Your Highness," she began, "do you think Harry can succeed tomorrow?"

"Yes," Henry said, "because he has done all the preparations he could; all that's left is to trust himself."

On Tuesday morning, the sky over Hogwarts was overcast with low-hanging clouds, but it didn't rain.

The foyer was more crowded than usual. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students stood in their respective lines, while Hogwarts students stood around the perimeter, forming a colorful wall.

Some people were whispering, some were tiptoeing to look at the door, and some were fiddling with the buttons on their robes.

Henry stood in the front half of the Slytherin line, followed by Draco and Blaise.

Theodore stood against the wall, holding a notebook. Pansy and Daphne stood a short distance away.

Prince Philip stood in the foyer near the door, wearing a dark grey hunting coat and carrying nothing in his hands. He looked like an ordinary old man attending an outdoor activity—if it weren't for Paul standing next to him, and the fact that the tailoring of his hunting coat was clearly Savile Row craftsmanship.

"Your Highness," Draco said in a low voice, "His Highness seems quite expectant."

"He's always loved watching the action," Henry said. "He said he was coming to the game last week."

"Where will he sit?" Draco asked.

"Professor Dumbledore reserved a seat for him in the VIP section next to the faculty seating area."

"The VIP seats?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "Can you see the entire arena from there?"

"It should be possible," Henry said. "Professor Dumbledore specifically chose it."

The crowd in the hall began to move. Students from the four houses, led by their prefects, lined up in four rows and walked out of the hall, across the lawn, and toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Henry walked in the Slytherin procession, followed by Draco and Blaise.

Prince Filipe walked at the front of the procession, side by side with Deng Buliang.

"Your Highness Prince Philip," Dumbledore said as he walked, "I chose the edge of the Forbidden Forest as the venue for today's match. Do you know why?"

Prince Philip shielded his eyes with one hand, looking at the open grassy area in front of him: "Is the view good?"

"Visibility is one aspect," Dumbledore said. "The other aspect is—in case something gets out of control, the trees in the Forbidden Forest can provide a natural barrier. Dragons may be fierce, but clowns don't like flying in dense forests. The Forbidden Forest is an invisible constraint for them."

"That's quite a thorough consideration," said Prince Filiangpu. "Have you dealt with dragons before?"

"I've handled it a few times," Dumbledore said. "My first job was in the Department of Magical Creatures Control at the Ministry of Magic, where one of my assignments was to handle a dragon smuggling case. That dragon caused quite a stir in the Magnum district of London."

Prince Philip became interested: "And then?"

"Later I sent Ugly back to Romania, where Ugly is doing very well. I receive postcards from Ugly every year."

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