Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 338 How to Deal with the Media

On the other side of the hall, Henry and Miss Farley finished their third dance.

Their steps were even more synchronized in this piece, as if they no longer needed to count the beats, their bodies moving naturally to the rhythm of the music.

Miss Farley took a step to the beat and then lowered her head slightly.

"Your Highness," she said, "you've danced three songs already, are you tired?"

"I'm fine," Henry said. "How about you?"

"I'm not tired," Miss Farley smiled faintly, "but I need something to drink."

The two walked out of the dance floor and headed towards the drinks table in the corner of the hall.

Miss Farley picked up a glass of pumpkin juice, her eyes fixed on Henry as if she couldn't get enough of looking at him.

"Your Highness," she began, "when you said those words in the corridor, you said you'd been considering me from the very beginning. Is that true?"

"Of course it's true," Henry replied without hesitation.

Miss Farley hesitated for a moment, then asked, "May I ask a more specific question?"

"Yes," Henry nodded.

"Did you invite me to the ball for some other reason, or because you genuinely want to go with me?" Miss Farley asked.

Henry looked at her.

This is a rather unusual question, as if Miss Farley is confirming something she needs to confirm.

"These two issues are not contradictory," Henry said. "I've considered you because I really would like to go to the ball with you."

"If I didn't really want you, I wouldn't have chosen you from so many invitations."

Miss Farley smiled with relief.

"Your Highness," she said, "this answer is better than I expected."

"What are you imagining?"

"What I imagined was—you chose me because I was the most logical choice. Because you know me, because I learned what you needed at Oxford, because you know I won't say the wrong thing in front of the media. I didn't expect you to say it was because I really wanted to go to the ball with you."

""

"Do you believe it?" Henry asked, looking up.

Miss Farley remained silent for a moment, then nodded and said, "I want to believe."

"Then believe it," Henry said with a smile.

"it is good."

The two stood quietly by the drinks table for a moment.

The music continued in the dance floor; some people were laughing, some were twirling, and the hems of skirts and robes created a flowing tapestry of colors in the candlelight.

"Your Highness," said Miss Farley, "what are your plans for tomorrow evening—after the ball?"

"I have some things to do tomorrow," Henry said. "I'm going back to Sandringham House for Christmas; my grandmother has arranged a family dinner."

.

"When are you leaving?" Miss Farley leaned forward slightly.

"Tomorrow morning, through the fireplace."

Miss Farley paused for a moment, then said, "Then I will..."

"You can come too," Henry said, "if you don't have any other plans."

Miss Farley paused for a moment: "Your Highness, are you inviting me to Sandringham House for Christmas?"

"right."

"But that was a royal gathering, and your grandmother—I mean Her Majesty the Queen—was there too."

"What's wrong?" Henry asked with a slight smile.

"Are you sure that's appropriate?" Miss Farley asked, somewhat flustered.

"I'm sure," Henry said, "because if you're going to be standing by my side someday, you'll have to meet my grandmother sooner or later. So what difference does it make whether it's sooner or later?"

Miss Farley stood there, her glass of pumpkin juice tilting slightly, but she quickly regained her composure.

Her expression changed several times in those few seconds, from surprise to thought, from thought to certainty, and finally she looked up.

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

"Then let's meet tomorrow morning in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room."

"Okay," said Miss Farley, "I'll be ready."

After saying that, she seemed to suddenly realize something and added, "Your Highness, you said you would stand by my side in the future," was that a promise?

"That's an invitation," Henry said. "A commitment only becomes valid after you confirm it."

"Of course I need to confirm—" Miss Farley said quickly.

After she finished speaking, she didn't wait for Henry's reply, but instead picked up the pumpkin juice and took a sip, as if using this action to cover up something.

The music on the dance floor changed again; this time it was a faster-paced song.

More people entered the dance floor. Henry saw Ron and Padma standing at the edge of the dance floor, whispering to each other; Harry and Parvati were in the center of the dance floor, their movements smoother than before, as if they had finally found their rhythm.

"Your Highness," Miss Farley put down her cup, "would you like to dance another song?"

"it is good."

The two of them went back onto the dance floor.

This time, when Miss Farley placed her hand on Henry's shoulder, it was more natural than before, as if she had slowly let go of some of the postures she had been maintaining during the past few hours.

"Your Highness," she said, "what should I wear if I go to Sandringham House?"

"You can wear anything," Henry said. "My grandmother didn't care much about clothes; she cared about the person."

"What would she care about?"

"She cares whether you're sincere," Henry said. "She's seen too many fake people and can spot them instantly. You don't need to do anything special; just be yourself."

"Will she ask me questions about the wizarding world?" Miss Farley asked again.

"Yes, we will," Henry nodded.

"Then how should I answer?" Miss Farley asked.

"Answer truthfully," Henry said. "She knows you're not with the Ministry of Magic, so you don't need to speak on their behalf. The question she's asking is your personal opinion—not an official position."

Miss Farley thought for a moment, then said, "Okay, I understand."

The two of them turned halfway around, and Miss Farley stared intently at Henry's face, as if trying to memorize him.

"Your Highness," she said, "I am very happy tonight."

"I'm very happy too."

"No—not because of the ball," said Miss Farley, "it's because you invited me."

"Of course I know," Henry said with a smile.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Miss Farley said, biting her lip.

"It's pointless to talk too much," Henry said. "So I try not to say anything useless."

"Then when you want to talk, you can tell me more?" Miss Farley asked in a low voice.

"certainly."

Miss Farley nodded and did not ask any further questions.

The music continued in the dance floor, the candlelight flickered, some people laughed, and some people talked in hushed tones.

It was an ordinary Christmas dance night, but for the two people standing in the middle of the dance floor, the night meant something they hadn't fully said but had already confirmed.

Just as Henry was leading Miss Farley around for the next round, he felt a gaze fixed on him.

He could sense that it was a patient gaze, as if waiting for the right moment.

He took the opportunity of turning around to glance in the direction of that gaze.

In a corner of the hall, near the edge of the faculty seating area, stood a woman. She wore a bright green robe with subtle gold patterns on the hem, like a dress too ornate for a ball.

Her hair was golden curls, meticulously styled, as if she had just stepped out of a salon. She held a glass of wine in her hand, but her attention was completely elsewhere—her gaze was fixed on Henry, with a smile that he didn't quite like.

There was only a professional curiosity in that smile, as if he were assessing whether something was worth writing down.

Henry recognized her.

Rita Skeeter, a reporter for The Daily Prophet.

She is known for digging into the private lives of celebrities and creating sensational news. She has written reports about extramarital affairs of high-ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic, and has also written articles that shocked the entire wizarding world with a shorthand quill pen.

Her shorthand quill is automatic; she doesn't need to lift a finger. Just place it on the paper, and it will write down every word she wants to write, including those that shouldn't be written.

Miss Farley followed his gaze. Her expression didn't change when she saw Rita Skeeter, but she subtly tightened her grip on Henry's shoulder.

It was a subtle signal that she had noticed and knew what this person meant.

"Your Highness," Miss Farley said in a low voice, "that's Rita Skeeter."

"I know."

"She's watching you."

"I noticed."

"She might come over," Miss Farley said nervously.

"Don't be nervous," Henry said. "Let's dance first."

Miss Farley said nothing more, and continued to follow Henry's rhythm as she circled around, seemingly unaware of anything unusual.

But as she turned around, her gaze swept in Rita Skeeter's direction, as if assessing something—distance, time, and who she would speak to first.

Sure enough, as the third piece ended, Rita Skeeter walked out from a corner of the hall.

The wine glass in her hand had been placed somewhere, replaced by a shorthand quill pen, which was now resting on a piece of parchment that had appeared out of thin air, ready to be written on.

She walked through the crowd, her pace slower than most, her gaze sweeping across the room as if making a final assessment before entering, before walking straight up to Henry and stopping in front of him.

"Your Highness Henry," her voice carried a deliberate softness—a warmth created by her nasal tone—"I am Rita Skeeter, a reporter for the Daily Prophet. If it's convenient for you, I'd like to take a few minutes of your time to ask a few questions. But rest assured, this is a relaxed setting, just a brief chat."

Miss Farley removed her hand from Henry's shoulder, but instead of backing away, she stood beside him.

Henry looked at Rita Skeeter, his expression maintaining a polite level, as if he had just been interrupted by something interesting but not worth paying much attention to: "Ms. Skeeter, it's ball time now."

“I know,” Rita said, “but I won’t take up too much of your time. Just a few small questions—about the Triwizard Tournament, about your experience at Hogwarts, about you and your dance partner—the public is very interested in you.”

Henry nodded slightly upon hearing this answer.

He didn't speak immediately, as if he was organizing his thoughts. But that pause wasn't entirely due to thinking; it was more like someone had decided how to respond and was adjusting it to the right rhythm.

Of course, he's preparing a big surprise.

“Ms. Skeeter,” he finally spoke, “I’d like to confirm something first. You mentioned public interest in me,” which is a very valuable observation. Public interest is a respectable social phenomenon, reflecting the fundamental laws of information dissemination in the contemporary media environment. Given this premise, I think it’s necessary to clarify a basic point: when the public shows interest in a topic, the media bears a complex responsibility. This responsibility is not merely a response to the public, nor is it solely about protecting information sources; it actually involves a broader issue of balancing information accuracy and dissemination efficiency. I think this balance is the core issue that your interview today should truly focus on.”

Rita's smile was slightly stiff, and her shorthand quill stopped on the parchment, as if she didn't know where to begin.

The quill pen tip poked at the parchment, then lifted it up, as if asking how to shorten the sentence.

"Your Highness," Rita's voice remained deliberately gentle, "I just wanted to ask a few simple questions, such as what are your thoughts on Harry Potter participating in the Triwizard Tournament as a champion of Hogwarts? Do you think he has a chance of winning?"

Henry glanced at her, his smile remaining polite.

"Ms. Skeeter, you've raised a very thought-provoking question. Regarding Harry Potter's performance as a Hogwarts champion, I'd like to respond from several perspectives. First, from the perspective of individual ability, Mr. Potter demonstrated impressive flying skills in the first challenge, a point I've affirmed on several occasions. Second, from the perspective of the competition's design, the Triwizard Tournament is a highly comprehensive competition, testing not only individual abilities but also mental fortitude, adaptability, and on-the-spot responsiveness. Third, from the perspective of objective conditions—of course, these objective conditions include, but are not limited to, the venue setup, refereeing standards, and the competitive state of other contestants—all these factors influence the final result. Therefore, my answer to your question is: this is a question that requires a comprehensive evaluation from multiple dimensions."

Rita's quill moved rapidly, but she frowned slightly.

The words that were written down sounded like words, but when put together, they seemed to say nothing at all.

"Your Highness," Rita changed her perspective again, "how did you and your dance partner, Miss Farley, meet?"

The public is very interested in your social circle.

Henry calmly adjusted his posture and cleared his throat.