Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 327 They say I'm that kind of person

"I'll be going now," the boy said. "You get some rest."

"Okay," Harry said.

The two boys turned and left. As they reached the stairwell, one of them lowered his voice and said, "Potter actually knows Prince Philip? How come he never mentions it before?"

"He rarely even mentions that he's a chosen warrior," another said. "That's just the kind of person he is."

Their voices faded into the distance, disappearing around the corner of the stairs.

Ron glanced at Harry: "Did you hear what they were saying?"

"I heard that," Harry said. "They said I'm that kind of person."

"What kind of person?" Ron was completely confused.

"He's the kind of person who doesn't talk much about himself."

Ron thought for a moment: "It seems that's true, you don't talk about yourself much."

19

"What's there to say?" Harry said. "Most people know my story. I grew up in a Muggle family, my parents died, I went to Hogwarts, that's all. What else is there to say?"

"You could say you've been to Kensington Palace," Ron said.

"That's not a big deal," Harry waved his hand dismissively, not at all feeling like he'd just made a huge fuss.

“I think it’s a big deal,” Ron said. “I spoke a few words to Prince Philip today, and I already think it’s a big deal. You’ve been to Kensington Palace several times, and you think it’s not a big deal? Your standards are way too high.”

Harry paused for a moment, then said, "It's probably because His Highness Henry said something to me when I first went there."

"What did you say?"

"He said I didn't need to treat this place as anything special; I just needed to treat it as a place to have tea." From then on, I wasn't so nervous. Although I knew this was Kensington Palace, once I sat down, it really felt no different from having tea.

Ron thought about it and realized that although the sentence sounded simple, he probably still couldn't do it if it were him.

"That's the difference between you and me," Ron said. "You can treat Kensington Palace like a tea house, while I feel like I'm going to die sitting in a speeding car."

"You're riding in a car, not drinking tea."

"Yes," Ron said, "so the difference is quite significant."

Harry smiled but didn't say anything more.

They sat in the common room for over an hour, during which students came back one after another. Some gave Harry a thumbs up as soon as they entered, some greeted him and said, "You flew well today," and others simply patted him on the shoulder as they passed by.

Harry responded to each question without showing impatience or excessive joy.

As darkness fell, the lights in the castle gradually came on.

Hermione was the first to stand up: "Let's go have dinner."

Ron stood up and stretched, "Finally, we can eat. I was so hungry I almost ate the golden egg instead of a chicken egg."

"Keep bragging, you can't possibly chew this up," Harry scoffed.

"I'm not stupid, that stuff is obviously inedible," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

They walked through the common room, crawled out of the portrait of the fat lady, and went down the stairs.

The staircase was in a good mood today, not changing direction, and smoothly led them to the foyer.

There were already quite a few people in the lobby; students from the four colleges were gathering from all directions and moving towards the auditorium.

Some people were talking about the competition, some were talking about the homework for the next Potions class, and some were talking about what Durmstrang students did in the hallway today.

When Harry entered the Great Hall, there were already quite a few people sitting at the Gryffindor long table.

He saw Fred and George sitting in the middle section, talking to a sixth-grade boy who looked both surprised and excited, as if he were listening to an incredible story.

"They're definitely talking about fighter jets," Ron said.

How did you know?

"Because I know them," Ron said. "Whenever something interesting happens to them, they have to tell everyone."

"They could talk about fighter jets for at least a month."

Harry sat down in the middle of the long table. Someone handed him a plate of roasted potatoes, and someone else pushed over a pot of pumpkin juice. They each put food on their plates and began to eat dinner.

"Harry," a fourth-year girl called out to him from a few seats away, "who taught you that roll today? I've never seen anyone do that fast in Quidditch practice."

"I practiced it myself," Harry said.

"You practiced on your own? You didn't get any instruction?"

"No," Harry said. "I just practiced on the broom."

The girl looked at him with an expression of admiration for a while, then turned back to continue eating.

Ron whispered to Harry, "You'll probably encounter this situation quite often in the future."

"Which situation?"

"It's when people look at you with that 'How could you do something like that?' look."

"I've run into them quite a few times today," Harry chuckled.

"There will be more to come," Ron said, "because you're a warrior, and you came in first place today."

Harry didn't argue, because he knew Ron was right.

Halfway through dinner, an owl flew into the Great Hall, circled the Gryffindor table once, and then landed in front of Harry.

A letter was tied to its leg; the envelope was off-white and sealed with a circular coat of arms—a coat of arms Henry recognized as the Kensington Palace emblem.

Harry opened the envelope and took out the letter.

There were only a few lines of text on it, the handwriting neat but slightly messy, as if it had been written in a hurry: "Harry:

You flew well today. My grandpa kept talking about you on the way home, saying that your rolls were better than some of the pilots he'd seen in the Air Force.

He asked me to tell you that next time you come for tea, he'd like to talk to you about flying.

Henry

After reading the letter, Harry folded it and put it in his pocket.

Ron leaned closer: "Who wrote this?"

"Your Highness Henry," Harry said.

"What did he say?"

"He said his grandfather said I flew well," Harry said.

Ron chewed on a potato and mumbled, "His grandfather really liked you. He even called out to me to clear his throat before he left."

"That was for you," Harry said.

“I know,” Ron said, “but I always felt he wasn’t really talking about my voice; I felt like he was joking with me.”

.

"He was definitely teasing you," Harry said, "but that's also a sign that he likes you. He would never tease someone he doesn't like."

Ron thought for a moment: "Do you think he likes me?"

"If he hated you, he wouldn't remember your name," Harry said. "The fact that he remembered it means he at least doesn't hate you."

Ron pondered this conclusion over and over in his mind, and it seemed to make some sense.

After dinner, the students left the auditorium one after another.

Some people went back to the common room, some went to the library, and some strolled and chatted in the corridor.

Harry didn't rush back. He stood in the foyer, looking at the golden egg he had brought out, tucked it under his arm, intending to study it for a while longer.

But he didn't go to the library, nor did he return to the common room. He stood in the foyer for a moment, then walked toward the second-floor corridor.

He wanted to visit the teahouse.

The door to the abandoned classroom was ajar. Harry pushed it open and saw a green flame burning in the fireplace and a pot of tea—still hot—on the coffee table, but no one was in the room.

Lucy peeked out from the corner: "Master Harry, His Highness said he has some business to attend to tonight and would like you to come back tomorrow. He said the tea is ready, so please help yourself if you wish."

Harry glanced at the teapot, then at the empty room. "When is he coming back?"

"I don't know," Lucy said. "His Highness said he went to the principal's office and won't be back until later."

Harry hesitated for a moment at the door, then came in and poured himself a cup of tea.

The tea was still hot, and the aroma of Darjeeling black tea filled the room, carrying a comforting scent.

He sat down, placed the golden egg on the coffee table, and looked at it.

He didn't try to open it; he just looked at it.

The hooting of an owl drifted in from the direction of the Forbidden Forest. Footsteps occasionally echoed in the corridor, but no one entered.

Harry finished his tea, stood up, and put the teacup back on the tray.

"Lucy," he said, "thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome, Master Harry," Lucy's voice came from the corner. "His Highness said you should get some rest."

"Okay," Harry said.

He walked out of the tea room and back down the corridor.

The stairs paused at the turn, as if considering whether to change direction, but ultimately remained as they were.

Harry made it down the stairs without incident, through the foyer, and back to the Gryffindor Tower.

When the plump lady saw him return, she woke up again: "Potter, you're back earlier than I expected today."

"I'm a little tired," Harry said. "I want to get some rest."

"Then go ahead," said the plump lady. "The password has changed today; it's now 'Rolling Fire Dragon.'"

"Rolling dragon?" Harry repeated.

"Yes," said the plump lady, "it was Filch who decided it; he said it was fitting for today."

Harry smiled, gave the password, and went into the common room.

There were hardly any people left in the room. The fire in the fireplace was burning a little less than it had been in the evening, but it was still bright enough.

A few younger students were chatting in hushed tones on a sofa in the corner. As Harry passed by, one of them looked up at him, nodded, and then turned back to continue talking.

Harry went up the stairs and back to his dormitory.

Ron was already lying on the bed, the blanket pulled up to his chin, his eyes half-closed and half-open, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

"You're back?" Ron asked vaguely.

"I'm back."

"Is the tea good?"

"It's delicious," Harry said. "Darjeeling tea."

"That's good." Ron rolled over and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. "I'm going to sleep. See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Harry sat down on his bed and placed the golden egg on the bedside table. He didn't lie down immediately, but sat on the edge of the bed looking at it.

The surface of the golden egg gleamed softly in the moonlight, like a polished piece of metal. He reached out and touched its surface; it was smooth, cool, and hard.

He did nothing more, lay down, and closed his eyes.

The next morning, when Harry arrived at the common room, there were already quite a few people sitting at the Gryffindor long table. Some were eating breakfast, some were reading the Daily Prophet, and some were discussing the day's lessons in hushed tones.

Harry sat down, put some scrambled eggs and sausage on his plate, and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

Ron sat down next to him and continued chewing his toast.

"What are you planning to do today?" Ron asked.

"Let's go to class first," Harry said. "This afternoon, we'll go find Cedric and ask if his golden egg has been opened yet."

"So how do you plan to ask him?"

"Just ask," Harry said. "Did you open your golden egg?"—that's it.

"What if he doesn't want to tell you?"

“Then I’ll say I’ll look into it myself,” and walk away. “If he knew, he wouldn’t have kept it a secret; he’s not that kind of person.” Harry said.

Ron thought for a moment: "Indeed. The Cedrics are quite nice."

The morning class was a spells class, where Professor Flitwick taught advanced uses of the Summoning Charm—how to summon an object even when it is blocked by an obstacle.

Harry learned quickly because he had already used the Summoning Charm in the first project and was quite familiar with the feel and rhythm of the spell.

Professor Flitwick clapped his hands upon seeing his performance: "Very good, Potter! Excellent! Your spells have shown significant improvement—they're faster and more precise. This shows you've been putting in the effort after class."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said.

"However," Professor Flitwick added, "there are more advanced uses for the Summoning Charm than just this one. If you need to use it under more complex conditions—such as when the object is moving or protected by magic—you will need to practice more precise control."

Harry nodded and carefully wrote down the sentence.

After class, Harry and Ron walked out of the classroom together. The corridor was crowded, and as they walked down the stairs, Harry saw a familiar figure as they rounded a corner.

Cedric stood at the end of the corridor, talking to several Hufflepuff students.

He wasn't holding a book or a golden egg, but Harry noticed a wand hanging from his waist, as if he were ready to deal with something at any moment.

Harry walked over and stopped a few steps away.

Cedric saw him, said something to the Hufflepuff students, and they dispersed.

Cedric turned to Harry: "Good morning, Potter."

"Good morning," Harry said. "Is your shoulder—feeling better?"

"Much better." Cedric stretched his shoulders. "Mrs. Pomfrey said it was just a burn, and it'll be fine after applying the ointment. It's just that I can't do anything too strenuous for the next few days."

"That's good.

99

Harry said, "I was going to see you yesterday, but then—I was too tired, so I didn't go."

"You fly very well."

Cedric said, "I saw a bit of it in the locker room; someone used magic to transmit the image. That roll was beautiful."

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