Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 410

Henry put the picture frame back on the mantel: "She told me that lightning runs faster than anyone else."

“Yes, once she fell off a horse and hit her knee on a rock, needing three stitches. My father was so angry that he locked her in the stable for three days.” Charles Spencer sat down on the sofa, picked up the teapot on the coffee table, and poured two cups of tea. “But your mother climbed back on and rode the next day. She was only seven years old then.”

Henry took the teacup, and Charles Spencer poured himself one as well, taking a sip.

"I was very happy when your mother called to tell me you were coming. She has rarely returned to Althorp in recent years, and she hasn't come much since my father passed away."

"She grows roses in London," Henry said. "She says the rose garden in Sandringham is her favorite place."

"My mother helped her plant the rose garden in Sandringham. The year she got married, my mother cut twelve rose cuttings from Althorp and planted them herself in Sandringham." Charles Spencer put down his teacup. "After your grandmother passed away, the rose garden came under your mother's care."

Henry picked up his teacup and took a sip. In the distance, Harry's shrill voice came from the direction of the stables, probably chasing some small animal.

"Where are William and Harry?" Henry asked.

"Your mother took them to see the ponies," Charles Spencer chuckled. "Harry ran off before he even finished his pudding when he heard there were ponies."

Henry put down his teacup and stood up.

"I'll go take a look."

He walked through the living room and went out through the side door.

Althorp's gardens are bigger than Kensington Palace's and wilder than Sandringham's.

The hedges weren't trimmed very neatly, and there were a few clumps of wildflowers growing on the lawn. Roses and lavender were mixed together, the colors were messy but very pretty.

Henry walked along the stone path to the stable. The stable was a long, narrow stone building with a red tile roof and a wooden sign hanging at the entrance that read "Althorpe Stable" in cursive script.

Diana stood at the entrance to the stable, holding a carrot in her hand.

Harry crouched beside the stable, his face pressed against the fence, his eyes fixed on a small brown pony inside.

William stood behind Harry, his hands in his pockets, also watching the brown pony.

"What's its name?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't have a name yet," Diana said. "Your uncle said he'll wait for you to come up with one."

Harry turned his head, his eyes lighting up.

"real?"

"real."

"Call it Stone." Harry turned back and stared at the pony for a while.

Diana laughed: "A stone?"

"Because it's the color of stone, and I also used stone to build my bunker," Harry said. "Stone is a good name."

William shook his head beside him: "You built your fortress with stone, so you named your horse Stone?"

"right."

Henry walked over to Diana, who handed Harry the carrot. Harry took it and carefully reached it through the fence.

Little Horse came over, touched the carrot with its lips, took a bite, chewed it twice, and swallowed it.

Harry laughed out loud.

"It ate it! It ate it!"

After finishing the carrot, the little horse rubbed its nose against Harry's hand, retreated to the corner of the stable, and lowered its head to nibble on the dry grass on the ground.

Harry pulled his hand back and wiped it on his pants.

"Henry," Diana turned her head, "Did your uncle tell you about the photos?"

"He said that you fell off a horse when you were seven years old, needed three stitches, and then climbed back on and rode it the next day."

"He remembers it so clearly," Diana chuckled.

He said you were very wild when you were a child.

"I'm wild now too," Diana said. "Growing roses is much harder than riding a horse."

Henry couldn't help but laugh, and William walked over from behind and stood next to Henry.

"Mom, Harry really named that horse Stone."

“I heard you,” Diana said. “Your uncle is going to have a headache. That horse is purebred, it has a pedigree certificate.”

"The name 'Stone' is good," William said. "It's better than 'Lightning,' which is too common."

Diana glanced at him: "Lightning was named by your maternal grandfather."

William shrugged. "That's different."

In the afternoon, Charles Spencer took them to see the old stones in the basement.

The basement was behind the stable; it was a semi-underground stone room with a narrow door and dozens of stones piled inside.

Most of them are ordinary gray granite, but a few have symbols engraved on them.

Henry crouched down to take a look. The symbols were faint, worn away by time to the point of being almost invisible, but the traces of three curved lines could still be discerned.

The fourth one is probably not engraved yet, or the person who engraved it felt it was unnecessary.

“My father brought these stones from Norfolk,” Charles Spencer said, standing in the doorway. “He said they were part of the old house’s foundation. He deliberately kept some when the house was demolished.”

Henry stood up. "Did he say what those symbols meant?"

"No. But he mentioned it once, saying that these stones couldn't be used to build a wall. I asked why, and he said they weren't for building walls."

Henry put the stone back in its place and walked out of the basement. Diana was standing by the stable waiting for him, while William and Harry were feeding the ponies in the stable.

Harry had already grabbed a large handful of hay from the haystack next to the stable and was handing it to Stone one by one.

"Did your uncle tell you about the stone?" Diana asked.

"He said so. He said these stones can't be used to build the wall."

Diana nodded. "My father said the same thing to me, but I never understood what he meant."

"Let's go," she said again. "It's almost dinner time. Your uncle said there's roast lamb leg today."

Henry followed Diana back to the manor, while William and Harry ran out of the stable, Harry still clutching a piece of hay in his hand.

They ran along the stone path, through the rose bushes, and past the old oak tree.

Henry stopped under the tree and looked up.

The oak in Althorp is thinner than the one on the west bank of Black Lake, but it is old enough, and its trunk is covered with lichen.

Dinner was held in the dining room, with six people at a long table: Henry, Diana, Charles Spencer, William, and...

Harry, and Charles Spencer's butler.

The menu features roasted lamb leg with mint sauce, roasted potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, boiled peas, and carrots.

Harry ate two lamb legs and three Yorkshire puddings, and then began to tell the story of the stone.

Charles Spencer paused noticeably when he heard that the thoroughbred had been named Stone.

"Stone?"

"Yes," Harry said, "because it's the color of stone."

Charles Spencer glanced at Diana.

Diana shrugged, meaning "Don't ask me."

"Alright," Charles Spencer put down his fork. "A stone it is. Better than 'lightning.'"

William chuckled beside him, and Harry glared at him but said nothing, continuing to eat his pudding.

After dinner, Henry sat in the living room for a while.

Charles Spencer flipped through an old photo album by the fireplace, while Diana knitted a scarf beside him.

William and Harry went upstairs—Harry said he was going to paint a portrait of the stone, and William said he would paint it just like the stone.

Henry picked up his teacup and took a sip.

Outside the window, the lawn in Althorp gleamed silvery-gray in the moonlight.

In the distance, a faint neighing of a horse came from the direction of the stable; it was probably Shi Tou grazing at night.

"Henry," Charles Spencer looked up, "your mother said you like tea, Darjeeling?"

"Yes, no sugar."

Charles Spencer stood up and took a small tin box from the cabinet under the coffee table.

"This was grown by a friend. We can only harvest a small amount each year, but it tastes great."

Henry took the tin box and opened it. The tea leaves were dark brown, tightly rolled, and had a faint floral scent.

"Thank you, Uncle."

"You're welcome." Charles Spencer sat back down. "Your mother also liked tea when she was a child, but she liked to add milk and sugar. My father said that tea with sugar was for children."

Diana chuckled beside her. "I'm adding sugar now."

"You're an adult now," Charles Spencer said. "Adults add sugar to their tea as a matter of personal taste. Children add sugar to their tea as a waste of good tea."

Henry put the tin box away, stood up, and walked to the window.

The night was quiet in Althorp. The lights in the stables were still on, probably because the steward was checking if Stone was sleeping well.

"When are you leaving tomorrow?" Henry asked.

"Nine o'clock in the morning," Diana said. "Your father said he needs to be back in London before noon. He's going to the British Library this afternoon."

They set off at nine o'clock on the morning of July 10th.

Harry fell asleep again in the car, his head resting on William's shoulder.

William didn't move Harry's stone this time—Harry didn't bring a stone; he brought a blade of grass, which he placed on his lap, probably the one left over from eating the stone.

Diana sat in the front seat with a box of tea given to her by Charles Spencer on her lap.

Besides the tin of Darjeeling, there was also a tin of breakfast tea.

"Your uncle said this pot of breakfast tea is for your father. He said Charles needs strong tea to stay alert when he's looking things up."

Henry took the breakfast tea, opened the lid, and smelled it.

The tea leaves are very broken, dark in color, and have a strong malty aroma.

"Father will like it."

As the car drove out of Althorp Estate, Henry saw Charles Spencer standing at the door in the rearview mirror.

"Does your uncle live here alone?" Henry asked.

“Yes,” Diana said. “His wife died ten years ago, and his children are in London. He says he likes to be alone.”

"Isn't he lonely?"

Diana looked out the window. "He has horses. He has a garden. He has that pile of stones in the basement. He says that's enough."

As the car drove onto the M1 highway, Harry rolled over in the back seat, and hay fell from his knees onto the car mat.

William picked up the hay and put it back on Harry's lap.

Upon arriving at Kensington Palace, Henry woke Harry and dragged him upstairs. William followed behind, clutching the hay in his hand. Diana stood in the doorway for a moment, then turned and went to the kitchen—presumably to hand the pot of breakfast tea to the butler.

Henry put Harry on the bed, Harry rolled over, hugged his pillow, mumbled "stone" and fell asleep. Henry took off his shoes, covered him with a blanket, and left the room.

When Henry came downstairs, Diana had just come out of the kitchen, still holding a half-eaten scone.

"Is Harry asleep?" Diana asked.

"She fell asleep, hugging her pillow, and called out 'Stone'."

Diana smiled and stuffed the rest of the scones into her mouth.

"Your uncle's pony will probably really be called Stone from now on."

Henry went into the living room. Charles hadn't returned yet, and the armchair by the fireplace was empty.

He sat down on the sofa, picked up the can of breakfast tea from the coffee table, opened the lid, pinched off a small amount, and put it into the teapot.

The tea soup quickly turned dark brown, so thick it was almost black.

He poured himself a glass and added a little milk.

The flavor is rich, with the astringency of tannins spreading on the sides of the tongue, followed by a very substantial sweetness.

Charles would definitely like this.

William came downstairs with a book in his hand, the cover of which had a picture of a Spitfire fighter jet on it.

He sat down at the other end of the sofa, opened a book, and said nothing.

"William," Henry began.

"Um?"

What do you want to do in the future?

William looked up from his book and glanced at Henry. "I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

"Harry said he wants to raise horses."

“Harry wants to keep everything.” William turned a page in his book. “Last time in Balmoral he said he wanted to keep a deer.”

Grandpa said, "Deer can run, horses can run, but your stone fortress won't run."

Henry leaned back on the sofa and yawned comfortably.

Charles returned around ten o'clock. He came in carrying the brown paper document bag and looked very relaxed.

"You're back?" Diana looked up from the armchair in the living room.

"Hmm." Charles placed the file folder on the coffee table. "The British Library's archives closed early today, so I only had half a day to search. But I found a few letters."

Henry put down his teacup.

"What letter?"

"It's a letter from George VI to the Court Secretary," Charles said, sitting down opposite him. "It says that he has approved the three points proposed by Abraxas Malfoy. However, regular inspections by royal representatives are required, and the inspection records will be kept by the Court Secretariat."

Diana picked up her teacup. "The patrol log?"

"Yes," Charles said. "If the records still exist, there should be a copy on file. In Windsor, or in Buckingham Palace."

Henry stood up: "I'll write a letter to Eileen and ask her to look into it."

He went upstairs to his room, sat down at his desk, took out some stationery and a pen from the drawer, and wrote: “Eileen: Father found a batch of correspondence from the time of George VI in the British Library. George VI authorized Abraxas Malfoy to make regular inspections of three special locations and instructed the Court Secretariat to keep records of these inspections. Please check if this record is in the archives of Windsor or Buckingham Palace. If so, could Grandmother bring it with her when she comes to Balmoral in August? Henry”

o

He sealed the letter and handed it to the butler to be sent to Windsor.

Henry got up very early the next morning.

Breakfast was already laid out on the breakfast table at Kensington Palace. William and Harry had not yet come down. Diana was reading a newspaper at the table, with a cup of coffee in front of her.

Henry poured himself a cup of breakfast tea and added a little milk.

He picked up a slice of toast and spread butter on it.