Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 334 Dance Partner

The corridor was quiet for a moment. Miss Farley looked at Henry without flinching, but her lips remained pursed.

Those were little gestures she made when she was nervous; Henry had seen them a few times and knew what they meant.

"Gemma," Henry began, "you said you chose me from the beginning, so when did you start choosing me?"

Miss Farley was clearly not prepared for this question. She tilted her head slightly, as if recalling something: "In fifth grade."

"Fifth grade?" Henry said. "What did I do back then?"

“You did nothing,” Miss Farley said. “You were just sitting in the Slytherin common room, reading by the fireplace.”

"It's that simple?"

"It's that simple," Miss Farley said with a smile.

"What's so special about that?"

"What's special is that you make me feel like I can just be myself."

Henry asked, "So, what makes you want to stand by my side?"

"Please allow me to keep this a secret," Miss Farley smiled sweetly. "Girls always have a few little secrets, don't they?"

"You're right." Henry chuckled, reaching out to shake Miss Farley's outstretched hand. "I accept your invitation, Gemma."

Miss Farley's eyes sparkled, and suddenly she opened her arms and hugged Henry tightly.

The hug was short, but her little face was flushed when she let go.

She took a half step back and straightened the hem of her coat, as if using this gesture to conceal something.

"Your Highness," she said, "let's go back. The people in the tea room must have been waiting for a long time."

Henry didn't expose her, but just smiled and said, "Okay."

The two pushed open the door and walked back into the tea room, drawing everyone's attention.

Ron's expression was full of curiosity, Hermione's was somewhat inquisitive, Cedric's was calm, and Krum's seemed indifferent but also waiting for an answer.

Henry sat down in the high-backed chair and crossed his legs.

"Your Highness," Ron spoke first, "what did Miss Farley say to you?"

"She invited me to the Christmas ball," Henry said.

"If I remember correctly, she was the fifteenth," Ron said. "So, did you say yes?"

Henry put down his teacup: "I agree."

The room was quiet for a moment.

"So you chose her?" Ron asked in surprise.

"right."

"Didn't you just say you hadn't decided yet?" Ron asked.

"What I meant was that if I'm unsure, I'll wait until two weeks before the prom. But if I'm sure, there's no need to wait that long."

After the tea party, Miss Farley walked side by side with Henry in the corridor.

She walked slower than usual, as if extending the distance.

“Your Highness,” she said, “Weasley’s expression was quite interesting when you announced in the tea room that you had accepted my invitation.”

"He has that look on his face all the time," Henry said with a smile.

"But he accepted it quickly; he's not the kind of person who dwells on things for a long time."

95

"Yes," Henry said. "Ron's strength is that he accepts reality faster than most people."

Miss Farley glanced at him: "And you? How quickly do you come to terms with reality?"

"I'm slow to accept reality," Henry said, "because I need to confirm that it's reality first."

Miss Farley did not ask any further questions.

The news spread throughout Hogwarts that very night after the tea party.

By Sunday morning, almost everyone knew who Henry's dance partner was—Miss Farley had returned to Hogwarts, and His Highness Henry had accepted her invitation; the remaining fourteen had all been politely replied to.

Some said, "Of course, Miss Farley was arranged by him personally to go to Oxford," others said, "Isn't it obvious? Miss Farley was prepared for him from the beginning," and still others said, "His Highness has finally made a decision. It's not easy."

But Miss Farley heard none of this chatter; she was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the Slytherin common room, flipping through "A History of the English Civil Service," a quill pen between her fingers, copying something onto parchment.

She wore a simple white shirt and dark trousers today, with her hair tied in a high ponytail, and didn't look like someone who had just won a dance partner competition at all.

Henry walked in from the corridor, holding a letter, and sat down on the chair next to her.

"What are you looking at?" he asked.

"I found this Muggle book, *A History of the British Civil Service*, in a bookstore in Oxford," Miss Farley said without looking up. "I'm trying to figure out the promotion paths in the British civil service and see if I can find a logic that can be translated into the personnel system of the Ministry of Magic."

"How's the translation progressing?"

"It's still in the early stages," Miss Farley said. "The differences in thinking between Muggles and wizards are greater than I imagined. Muggles like to write down procedures, explaining clearly why each step is done this way; wizards prefer to rely on experience, thinking that's just how things are done." That's enough. To get wizards to accept procedures, you need to first get them to understand the meaning of those procedures.

"So how do you plan to get them to understand?"

"I haven't decided yet," Miss Farley finally looked up. "But I still have time."

"You still have the whole vacation left," Henry said, "if you don't go back to Oxford."

Miss Farley looked at him. "You expect me to stay here for the entire holiday?"

"I hope you'll stay for the ball," Henry said. "Then you can decide for yourself."

Miss Farley thought for a moment and said, "Then I'll stay until after the ball. I'll see what happens after that."

The two sat quietly for a while. In the corner, several lower-grade students were playing Wizard Chess, the pieces pushing and shoving each other on the board with muffled sounds.

"Your Highness," Miss Farley closed the book, "what are your plans for today?"

"No classes this morning," Henry said. "Charms class this afternoon."

"Do you have time this morning?"

"Of course, what's wrong?"

"I'd like to go to Hogsmeade. I spent a few months in Oxford and came back to find I forgot to bring a proper dress," said Miss Farley. "I'd like to see if I can find a dress suitable for the Christmas ball at the Elegant Wizard's Clothing Shop near the Three Broomsticks."

"Okay," Henry said. "I'll go with you."

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Tower, Harry was standing in front of the mirror in the common room, staring blankly at his reflection.

He had been standing there for ten minutes, clutching a folded piece of paper in his hand—on which was written what he wanted to say to Pavati Petit, but he hadn't decided whether to say it directly or hand the paper to her.

Ron sat on a sofa a short distance away, a piece of toast in his hand. "You've been standing for ages. Are you planning to stand there until the ball is over?"

"I'm wondering how to bring it up," Harry said. "Do you think I should just tell her directly, or give her the note first?"

"Just say it," Ron said. "The note makes it seem like you don't have the guts to ask in person."

"Didn't you say that saying it directly would seem too abrupt?"

"What I'm saying is, if you just directly ask me if I'd like to go to the dance with you, it's definitely a bit sudden. But if you chat for a bit first, and then ask, it won't feel so abrupt."

Harry left the note: "So what do you think we should talk about?"

"Talk about the weather," Ron said. "Or Quidditch, or what she wore today. Just say something first, and then... Oh, by the way, would you like to come to the Christmas ball with me?"

Harry took a deep breath: "Okay, I'm going then."

He walked out of the common room and down the stairs.

Parvati Petil usually spends Saturday mornings in the common room, where she likes to sit by the window and read when the sun is shining.

When Harry reached the top of the stairs, he saw her sitting there, holding a magazine and looking down at it.

Harry walked over and stopped two steps away from her. He felt his heart beating faster than usual, but he tried to keep his voice steady: "Pavati."

Parvati looked up and saw Harry. She put down the magazine she was holding. "Harry? Is something the matter?"

"Uh—" Harry realized that the lines he had just rehearsed in his head had vanished in an instant. He paused for a moment, then said, "I wanted to ask you—are you free on Saturday night?"

"Saturday night? You mean the night of the Christmas ball?"

"Yes, I wanted to ask you if you would like to go to the Christmas ball with me?"

Parvati was clearly surprised that Harry would invite her, and she smiled happily, saying, "Harry, are you inviting me?"

"Yes," Harry said, "I'm inviting you."

Parvati looked at him for a moment, considered for a second, and then said, "Okay, I'm willing."

Harry stood there, feeling the pressure in his chest vanish instantly: "Really?"

“Really,” Parvati said. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Christmas ball, but no one has invited me yet. You’ve come at just the right time.”

""

"So, it's settled then?" Harry asked.

"It's a deal," Parvati said. "See you Saturday night."

Harry nodded, turned and walked back to the stairwell, feeling his steps were much lighter than when he came up.

When he returned to the common room, Ron was still sitting on the sofa. Seeing his expression, Ron smiled and said, "She agreed?"

"I agree," Harry said.

"That's good," Ron said. "Now it's just me left."

"You don't have a dance partner yet?"

"Not yet," Ron said, "but I'm not in a hurry. I still have time."

"So, do you have a goal yet?"

Ron thought for a moment: "Yes."

"Who?"

"Hibiscus de la Cour".

Harry was somewhat taken aback: "Ron, do you know who she is?"

"I know," Ron said matter-of-factly. "The warriors of Beauxbatons are half Veela."

"So do you think she'll say yes?"

"I don't know," Ron said, "but you'll never know if you don't try."

Harry looked at Ron, whose expression was serious, as if he really intended to do it. Harry wanted to say something, but in the end he only said, "Then go ahead."

On Monday afternoon, Ron stopped Fleur Delacour in the hallway.

She had just emerged from the library, carrying several books, her silver hair gleaming softly in the torchlight of the corridor. Two Beauxbatons girls followed behind her, and they both stopped when they saw Ron approaching.

"Miss Delacour," Ron said, "I have something to say to you."

Furong looked at him, her expression polite but with a hint of distance: "What is it?"

Would you like to come with me to the Christmas ball?

Fleur's expression changed. She looked at Ron for a moment, then shook her head regretfully and said, "Thank you for the invitation, but I already have a dance partner."

Ron stood there, feeling his face burning. "You have a dance partner? Who is it?"

"Roger Davis," Fleur said, "the Ravenclaw prefect. He invited me last week, and I accepted."

Ron opened his mouth: "Roger Davis? That one..."

"Yes, that's him," said Furong. "He's very polite and dances very well. I've already said yes."

Ron stood there, trying to process the information. He couldn't speak, just stood there blankly. The two Beauxbatons girls chuckled softly behind him.

"Thank you for the invitation," Furong said politely. "I wish you find a suitable dance partner."

She nodded and left with her two companions.

Her long silver hair swayed briefly in the torchlight of the corridor before disappearing around the corner of the stairs.

Ron stood there, feeling his face still burning, but he wasn't too upset. He hadn't had high hopes to begin with; he just felt he should give it a try.

He walked slowly back to the Gryffindor common room, where Harry was already waiting. Seeing his dejected expression, Harry asked, "She rejected you?"

"She has a dance partner," Ron said, sitting on the sofa. "Roger Davis."

"That Ravenclaw prefect?"

"Yes," Ron said. "She said he was very polite and a very good dancer."

Harry tried to comfort him, but Ron waved his hand, "It's okay, I knew I'd be rejected. I just wanted to try."

Harry was silent for a moment, then asked, "So what are you planning to do?"

"I don't know," Ron said, "but the ball is still a few days away, we'll be able to find someone."

On Wednesday afternoon, Hermione ran into Krum in the library.

He sat by the window, a Bulgarian Quidditch strategy book open in front of him, but he wasn't looking out the window; he seemed lost in thought.

Hermione walked over and sat down opposite him. "Viktor, what are you doing here?"

Krum turned around and saw that it was Hermione. His expression relaxed slightly. "I was reading a book."

"You're reading a Quidditch strategy book," Hermione said, "but it's upside down."

Krum glanced down—the book was indeed upside down. He didn't panic, simply turning it right-side up: "I was thinking about something."

"What are you thinking about?"

Krum paused for a moment, then said, "I was thinking about the Christmas ball."

Hermione didn't reply, but she didn't look away.

Krum looked at her: "Hermione, are you going to the Christmas ball?"