Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 147 The Pig That Got Slammed in the Door (Third Update)

"As long as I can get away from the Dursleys," Harry said, looking out the window.

John didn't know what to say; he was both amused and exasperated.

Should we say this kid is oblivious, or what?

Anyone who didn't know better would think he had escaped Auschwitz concentration camp.

John sighed silently and stepped on the gas.

Well, it's already a miracle that this child has lived to be eleven years old and still maintains a normal mind—or at least appears to be normal.

As for whether it's being thick-skinned or not—at this age, facing that kind of life, being thick-skinned is also a kind of self-protective instinct.

The car continued forward, and Harry leaned back in his seat, gazing out the window in a daze for a long time.

"Mr. Hawthorne," he suddenly said.

"Um?"

"That order—it belongs to my uncle. If he gets it, what will he do to me?"

John glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

Do you want to hear the truth or a lie?

"The truth," Harry said.

"The truth is, he'll be nicer to you," John said. "Not because of a change of heart, but because you've suddenly become useful. A friend of the prince—that's worth far more than his order. Later, when he brags to the neighbors, he'll say, 'Our nephew is so close to the prince—' even though he previously wanted to throw you in the trash."

Harry paused for a moment, then chuckled softly.

"Then I'd rather he just treat me like I don't exist."

"Why?" John asked.

"Because at least that way I wouldn't have to see his fake smile," Harry said. "His fake smile is particularly ugly, like—like a pig that's been caught in a door."

"Your analogy is very vivid." John had to admit that the kid really knew how to make sharp commentary.

"Thank you," Harry said.

The car drove across a bridge, beneath which flowed a wide river.

The sunlight shone on the river, making it sparkle like a layer of leaping gold floating on the surface.

Harry leaned against the window, looking at the river.

"What river is this?"

"The Thames," John said, "the mother river of London."

"It's so wide," Harry exclaimed.

"Yes, it gets wider downstream," John said.

Harry looked at the river and suddenly remembered something.

"Mr. Hawthorne," he turned around, "what does His Highness Henry usually do at home?"

"Reading, doing homework, and handling some royal matters," John replied. "Sometimes I play with Harry, sometimes I discuss things with William, and sometimes I'm just alone."

What does he do when he's alone?

"daze."

"Staring blankly?" Harry was somewhat incredulous.

"Yeah," John said, "I can just sit by the window, look outside, and do nothing for an hour or two."

"I often daydream too." Harry was somewhat pleased, feeling that he had more in common with this friend.

"What were you thinking about when you were daydreaming at the Dursleys' house?" John asked.

"I wonder what it would be like if I could leave someday," Harry said. "I wonder what it would be like outside, what my mom and dad would be like, and—I wonder if there would be any place where I would feel like I belong."

After he finished speaking, he added, "But since I went to Hogwarts, I haven't thought about these things anymore."

John didn't speak, and the car continued forward, entering central London.

The scenery outside the window began to change; the low houses became high-rise buildings, and the quiet streets became bustling with traffic.

Red double-decker buses drove by, black taxis weaved through traffic, and pedestrians hurried along the sidewalk, holding coffee and their phones.

Harry pressed his face against the window, watching intently.

"London is so lively," he said.

"Yes," John said, "it's a completely different world from Surrey."

"I feel like I live in so many two worlds," Harry said. "The Dursleys and Hogwarts are one world, Surrey and London are another, and Muggles and wizards are the biggest two."

John glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

Which world do you feel belongs to you?

"Hogwarts," Harry said without hesitation. "Although many people point and whisper about me there, at least there are people who are willing to talk to me and invite me for tea."

The car continued forward, passing through street after street.

Finally, it stopped in front of a huge iron gate.

The security guard walked over, glanced at the license plate, saluted, and opened the gate.

The car drove into the Kensington Palace area.

Harry looked out the window, his eyes widening.

He had seen palaces—on television, in movies, and in the occasional royal documentaries the Dursleys watched, but he had never seen a palace like this.

Entering through the gate, there is a wide driveway with neatly trimmed lawns on both sides, so green they look unreal.

The garden was filled with flowers of all colors—red, yellow, and purple—forming intricate patterns. Further on was a fountain, and in the center of it stood a white sculpture—no, an angel?

Harry wasn't sure, but he knew it had been there for years.

Behind the fountain is a huge building with many windows, each one polished to a shine.

"This—this is—" Harry's voice trembled slightly.

"Kensington Palace," John said, "the residence of the Prince of Wales."

The car stopped in front of the building, John turned off the engine, and looked back at him.

"We've arrived, get off the bus."

Harry took a deep breath, opened the car door, and got out with his suitcase.

He looked up at the enormous building, unsure of what to do.

Hedwig flew off his shoulder, circled once in the air, and then landed on the railing next to him. She tilted her head, looked around at her new surroundings, and cooed twice.

"Brother! Brother! He's here!"

A childish voice came from afar, breaking the silence.

Harry looked up and saw a child rushing out of the palace.

The child was about eight or nine years old, chubby, wearing a striped polo shirt and khaki shorts, and his cheeks jiggled when he ran.

He was holding a plush toy in his arms, with a bright smile on his face.

He rushed in front of Harry, slammed on the brakes, and almost fell over.

Then he looked up at Harry, his eyes shining like two stars.

"Are you Harry?"

Harry nodded.

The child's smile widened, his mouth stretching almost to his ears.

"What a coincidence! My nickname is also Harry! My brother said you'd come!" he exclaimed excitedly. "He said you're his friend! He said you're a wizard! Do you have magic? Can I see? Norbert can breathe fire too, look!"