Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 408 Daily Life

Henry finished the lamb chops on his plate and then drank a cup of tea.

Outside the window, on the lawn of Kensington Palace, several night birds swooped down from the treetops, their wings flashing briefly in the streetlights before disappearing.

The next morning, Henry was awakened by noises coming from downstairs.

Harry's shrill voice came up from the first floor, mixed with William's low dissuasion and the dull thud of something being dragged on the floor.

He glanced at the pocket watch on the bedside table; it was just past eight o'clock.

He doesn't usually sleep this late, but the beds at Kensington Palace are just too soft.

He washed his face, changed his clothes, and went downstairs. In the breakfast room, Harry was standing on a chair, trying to put a gray stone on the table.

William stood by, reaching out to protect the tablecloth from the stone.

"Harry." Henry leaned against the doorframe.

Harry turned around, grinning and revealing a set of white teeth.

"Henry! Look at this stone—William said it looks like a castle. Put it down."

Harry looked down at the stone in his hand, then at Henry.

He pursed his lips and placed the stone on the floor beside the table.

William breathed a sigh of relief and sat down in the chair.

Henry sat down opposite them, and the butler brought him breakfast. He poured himself a cup of breakfast tea and added a little milk.

"How many stones did you bring from Balmoral?" Henry asked, picking up a slice of toast.

"Twelve stones." Harry squatted down, fiddling with his stones. "Some big, some small. William said we could build a bunker, but Mother said no."

"If my mother says no, then no."

Harry looked up. "But you haven't finished speaking yet."

"That patch of grass next to the rose garden won't do," Henry said, taking a bite of his toast. "The lavender has just started to grow. You should find another spot."

Harry glanced at William. William shrugged, as if to say, "I told you so."

"And what about next to the vegetable garden in the backyard?" Harry asked.

"Can."

Harry's eyes lit up, he jumped up, grabbed the stone, and ran toward the door.

William stood up and followed him. When he reached the door, he glanced back at Henry and mouthed "thank you."

Henry nodded, finished his breakfast, drank a cup of tea, and went upstairs to find Charles.

The study door was closed. Henry knocked twice, and Charles's muffled voice came from inside: "Come in."

The study was dimly lit with the curtains drawn. Charles sat behind his desk, a pile of photocopied documents, several old maps, and an open notebook spread out in front of him.

His hair was more disheveled than the last time I saw him, and there were ink stains on the cuffs of his sweater.

"Henry," Charles looked up, "when did you get back?"

"Yesterday afternoon," Henry said, sitting down opposite him. "Mother said you locked yourself in the study all afternoon yesterday."

"Looking for something." Charles pushed a photocopy in front of Henry. "Take a look at this."

Henry took the copy; it was an old map, a Victorian map of southern England, with several locations marked in red.

One of the locations is marked in northern Norfolk, near Wash Bay, with a small note next to it: "Site of the Spencer family ancestral home. Demolished in 1630."

"Is the Spencer family's ancestral home in Norfolk?" Henry asked.

“Yes,” Charles said. “Althorpe is a later property. The Spencer family lived in Norfolk in the seventeenth century. That old house was demolished in 1630, and the stones from the demolition were transported to Althorpe to build the current house.”

Henry turned the copy over. There was a line of handwritten text on the back.

"The basement of the old house, one of the seals."

"Who wrote this?"

“I don’t know,” Charles said. “I copied it from the Victorian archives at the British Library. The original was written in pencil, very faintly, and I almost missed it.”

Henry put the copy down.

"Father, what do you plan to do about this?"

Charles was silent for a moment: "Your mother told me that your grandmother is handling the sealing matter and told me not to get involved."

"Then why are you still investigating?" Henry laughed.

Charles looked up and glanced at Henry.

"No. I'm investigating these things not to interfere, but to find out what connection our family has with them."

"It doesn't matter. Your grandmother knows a lot, but she doesn't say it. Your mother has been growing roses for twenty years; she didn't know the Spencer family had witches. I spent a month researching before I found a name called Eleanor that had been scrapped from the family tree."

He closed his laptop and leaned back in his chair.

"Henry, I'm looking into our own history."

Henry sat across from him for a while, and outside the window, Harry's shrill voice came from the direction of the backyard, probably directing William to move stones.

In the distance, Diana's voice could be heard calling out something in the garden, probably telling them not to trample the lavender.

“Father,” Henry began, “Grandmother wants us to go to Balmoral in August; she’ll tell you about it.”

Charles looked at him: "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Henry stood up.

In the afternoon, Henry went to the backyard.

William and Harry had already built a small stone bunker next to the vegetable garden. Twelve stones were stacked in three rows, crooked and uneven, but you could tell it was square.

Harry squatted down beside him and used a twig to draw a moat on the muddy ground.

"Henry!" Harry called up, "Look, this is the moat, and they're putting a drawbridge here—"

What are suspension bridges made of?

Harry thought for a moment: "William's hat."

William was turning over the soil in a corner of the backyard, not even turning his head: "No way."

"And Henry, your hat."

Henry crouched down to examine the bunker; the stones were not stacked steadily, and the top stone was wobbling.

"Harry, press down on the top rock."

Harry reached out and pressed it; the stone did indeed wobble.

He frowned, then found a small stone and placed it in the gap, stabilizing the stone.

"Alright." Henry stood up. "The bunker is good. Dig the moat shallower, otherwise it will flood when it rains."

Harry nodded and continued digging.

When Henry returned to the house, Diana was arranging flowers in the living room.

She carefully placed the roses she had cut that morning into vases one by one. There were five or six different vases on the table, each filled with roses of a different color.

"William and Harry in the backyard?" Diana asked without looking up.

"They're building a bunker. The third stone was a bit loose, so I helped them put it in place."

Diana smiled slightly. "Where is your father?"

"In the study, but the curtains are open."

Diana placed a yellow rose in a blue vase: "That's good. Every time he closes the curtains, I know he's buried himself in them again."

Henry sat down on the sofa in the living room, where a pot of freshly brewed breakfast tea and a plate of freshly baked scones were on the coffee table.

He poured himself a cup of tea, picked up a scone, and spread jam and cream on it.

After Diana finished arranging the flowers, she washed her hands and sat down opposite him.

She poured herself a cup of tea, picked up a scone, and took a bite.

"Did your father tell you about Norfolk?"

"I told you," Henry said, taking a sip of tea. "The Spencer family's old house. Demolished in 1630."

Diana nodded. "When I was a child, I saw a box of old documents in Althorp that said 'Old Norfolk Site' on it. I asked my father what it was, and he said it wasn't worth looking at."

"He didn't let you see it?"

“No,” Diana said. “He went to Althorp alone every year and never took me with him. Now that he’s gone, those things should still be there.”

Henry put down his teacup. "Would you like to go see Althorp?"

Diana looked at him for a moment: "You want to go?"

"Summer vacation is still long."

Diana picked up her teacup and took a sip: "They'll only settle down after William and Harry's fortresses are finished."

"Okay." Henry's lips curled into a smile.

In the evening, Charles came out of his study.

He washed his face, changed his shirt, and combed his hair, looking more energetic than in the afternoon.

Dinner was in the restaurant. Harry had exhausted himself from the moat-digging project that afternoon, so the butler sent him upstairs to sleep early.

Dinner consisted of roast chicken with roasted root vegetables and gravy. Diana poured herself a glass of red wine, Charles asked for water, and Henry drank breakfast tea.

"Is the bunker finished?" Charles asked William.

"It's probably finished." William said, cutting a roast chicken. "Harry might add something else tomorrow; he said he wants to add a tower."

"A tower?" Charles raised an eyebrow. "A tower built of twelve stones?"

He said he would go to the backyard to find more stones.

Diana put down her knife and fork: "Don't crush the lavender."

"He was lying next to the vegetable patch," William said. "Henry said so."

Charles glanced at Henry. Henry continued eating his roast chicken.

After dinner, William went upstairs.

Henry sat in the living room for a while while Diana knitted something beside him—a light blue scarf, probably for William, since Harry never wore scarves.

Charles sat down in an armchair by the fireplace and flipped through an old magazine.

Outside the window, the streetlights in Kensington Gardens shone through the shadows of the trees.

The calls of swans drifted from the direction of the Nine-Bend Lake in the distance, deep and lingering. Henry leaned back on the sofa and picked up his teacup.

On July 8th, at Kensington Palace, the next morning, Henry was once again awakened by Harry's shrill voice.

This time he didn't stay in bed; he got dressed and went downstairs immediately.

Harry had finished breakfast and was dragging a tree branch as he ran to the backyard.

William followed behind, carrying a tin bucket, presumably for holding stones.

Diana was reading a newspaper in the breakfast room, with a cup of coffee in front of her.

She looked up when she saw Henry come in.

"What's the schedule for today?" Henry asked, sitting down opposite him.

"No." Diana turned a page of the newspaper. "Your father went to Buckingham Palace to check some archives from the George VI era. He'll be back before dinner."

Henry poured himself a cup of breakfast tea. "I'm going for a walk."

"Where to?"

"Hyde Park, let's go for a run."

Diana nodded: "Don't go too far. Come back for lunch."

Henry went upstairs to change into his sportswear and went out through the side door.

Kensington Gardens was quiet in the morning. A few dog walkers strolled on the lawn, and a Corgi chased after a Labrador, its tail wagging like a propeller.

Henry ran a lap around the Nine-Loop Lake and then sat down on a bench by the lake.

He took out the oak leaf bookmark and turned it over. The four arcs gleamed a pale silver in the morning light.

He thought for a moment and then put the bookmark away.

It was almost noon when we got back to Kensington Palace.

Harry and William were still in the backyard. Henry went over to look; the bunker was two stories taller than yesterday, crooked but not collapsed.

Harry was trying to put a long, thin stone on top of the pile, with William supporting him.

"If you put this stone on, it will tip over," Henry said from behind.

Harry turned his head.

"No. I came in last."

"The base you used was the loose one from yesterday."

Harry looked down and, sure enough, the small stone he had used to prop up the floor yesterday had fallen off sometime ago. He pouted.

"Get a flat one." Henry picked up a flat piece of gravel from the pile of stones next to him and handed it over. "This one will be the base."

Harry took it and placed it at the bottom of the bunker. The long stone stabilized the bunker after it was placed on top. Harry dusted off his hands and stepped back, satisfied.

"The tower is finished," he said.

William shook his head. "Is that a tower?"

"Higher than yesterday."

Henry smiled, turned around, and went back into the house.

Lunch was a cold dish: ham, cheese, pickles, bread rolls, and salad. Diana was waiting for him in the dining room; Charles hadn't returned yet.

"Your father called," Diana said. "He found a batch of private letters from the time of George VI at Buckingham Palace. He said he won't be home for dinner."

Henry picked up a bread roll: "Where is he staying tonight?"

"My London apartment, I'll be back tomorrow."

Henry took a bite of his bread roll, while Diana poured herself a glass of water.

"Do you know what your father found out?" Diana asked.

"I roughly know."

Diana looked at him for a moment: "Your father is looking forward to your grandmother's trip to Balmoral in August."

"I know."

Diana picked up her water glass, took a sip, and asked, "Are you going too?"

"certainly."

Diana nodded and asked no further questions. She finished the salad on her plate, asked the butler to clear away the dishes, and stood up.

"I'm going to the flower market this afternoon, will you come with me?"

"it is good."

In the afternoon, Henry accompanied Diana to the Columbia Road flower market.

The flower market is located in East London and opens every Sunday morning, with flower vendors setting up their stalls as early as dawn.

Diana, wearing sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat, walked slowly between the stalls.

Henry followed beside her, carrying a wicker basket.

Diana stopped at a stall selling bulbous plants and picked out a few tulip bulbs.

The stall owner was Dutch, and his English had a heavy accent.

Diana spoke a few words to him in Dutch, and the stall owner smiled and gave her two extra pieces.

"Do you speak Dutch?" Henry asked.

"Just a little bit," Diana said. "I learned it from my grandmother."

They continued walking, and when they passed a rose stall, Diana stopped to look at them but didn't buy any.

The stall owner was shouting, "Last batch, closing up shop next week!" Diana shook her head and walked over.

On the way back to Kensington Palace, Diana sat in the back seat with a paper bag of bulbs on her lap.

She looked out the window and spoke after a while.

"I was actually a little worried when your father was investigating those things."

Henry looked at her.

“He would go into those old papers by himself and sometimes wouldn’t come out all day. I was afraid he’d find something he shouldn’t be looking for,” Diana said. “But your grandmother sent him to Balmoral. She said she would explain things to him, so I’m relieved.”