Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 148 Visiting Kensington Palace (Fourth Update)

He held up the plush toy in his hand and pressed it against his stomach.

The toy moved, flapped its wings, and let out a small hiss.

Then it opened its mouth and spewed out a small cluster of thin flames.

The flame was orange-red, thin, about the size of a lighter flame, and it had a slight sulfurous smell when it shot out.

Harry was stunned.

This is a toy modeled after Norbert?

"This is Norbert!" the child said proudly, holding the toy even higher. "Henry brought it back from the reserve!"

She's a Norwegian Spinosaurus! And she can breathe fire!

He pressed the toy's belly, and the dragon breathed out a small cluster of fire.

"Did you see that? She sprayed it again! She really likes you!"

Harry didn't know what to say. He stood there looking at the enthusiastic little boy and the fire-breathing toy dragon, with only one thought in his mind—

This is so much better than the Dursleys' cupboard.

"Are you Harry?" the child asked again, as if he hadn't heard the previous answer.

"Yes," Harry said, "I am Harry."

"My name is Harry!" the boy said. "I'm my brother's brother!"

When he said this very tongue-twisting sentence, the expression on his face was extremely proud, as if "being my brother's brother" was some kind of extraordinary achievement.

Harry couldn't help but laugh; this child was completely different from his brother.

When Henry was at Hogwarts, he always behaved very calmly, and his words and actions showed a composure beyond his years.

You never know what he's thinking, and you can never guess what he'll do next.

But this younger brother is just like a warm-hearted puppy.

"Harry!"

Another voice came from the doorway.

Harry looked up and saw Henry standing on the steps.

The sunlight shone on him, making him look like someone who had stepped out of an oil painting.

He walked down the steps and toward Harry.

Harry jumped around excitedly, shouting, "Henry! Henry! He's here! It's Harry! He's your friend!"

Henry ignored him and simply walked up to Harry.

He looked Harry up and down and smiled slightly.

"Long time no see," he said. "Ron told me you're in trouble. You should write to him later to let him know you're safe—have you eaten yet?"

"I ate," Harry said, "but I'm not full."

Henry nodded and reached out to rub the head of his bratty little brother beside him.

"That's perfect," he said. "My mother had some desserts made; she specially baked them when she heard you were coming."

He turned and walked inside, but after taking two steps, he turned back.

"What are you standing there for? Come in, Hedwig too—don't let her fly away, there's a cat here."

Hedwig barked from the railing, looking a little unhappy; it was unclear whether she had understood what Henry had just said.

Harry picked up the suitcase and followed, skipping and hopping along, shouting, "Snacks! Snacks! I want strawberry ones!"

Hedwig flew up from the railing and landed on his shoulder, cooing.

The moment Harry stepped through the door, something suddenly came to mind.

"Henry," he began.

Henry turned to look at him.

"That order—how did you manage to get it?"

"What order?" Henry asked.

“My uncle’s,” Harry said, “the one with three million two hundred thousand pounds.”

"It's nothing," Henry said. "Anyway, this order is going to be done by someone else, you know, Brenda."

Harry opened his mouth.

"It's...it's that simple?"

"What else?" Henry asked, looking at him.

Harry choked.

"Don't worry," Henry said. "Your uncle got the order, so you don't need to go back to that place. You can stay here for the whole summer."

"6

"This order—" Harry hesitated, "will it cause you any losses?"

"This is only part of the promised aid and construction to Brenda," Henry sighed. "It's been almost ten years, and the situation is a bit complicated, so don't feel pressured."

"Brenda?" Harry scratched his head and asked, "What's that?"

"TPLAC," Henry said in a serious tone.

"TPLAC?" Harry was even more confused.

"Tin, a tiny African country," Henry said with a smile. "Alright, let's go in."

He turned and continued walking.

Harry stood there, watching his retreating figure.

He knew Henry was a magical man back in Hogwarts.

He wasn't aloof like other Slytherins, nor did he enjoy showing off like Malfoy.

He simply sat there, drinking tea and listening to others talk, occasionally saying a few words that always hit the nail on the head.

He was a little nervous when he first attended a tea party, but he later found that the tea party was indeed quite interesting.

Unlike the formal occasion he had imagined, it was actually just a few people sitting together, drinking tea, eating snacks, chatting casually, and being very relaxed.

They would talk about anything—Quidditch, homework, professors, magical creatures, and all the gossip circulating at school.

"Harry!" Harry called from ahead, "Come quick! The snacks are almost ready!"

Harry snapped out of his daze, picked up his suitcase, and followed.

He stopped the moment he stepped into the living room.

It's not because the living room is too big or too luxurious—although it is indeed very big and luxurious.

The living room was larger than any room he had ever seen, with a ceiling so high that you could see the carved plaster moldings, and several oil paintings hanging on the walls, all originals, not prints.

The fireplace was made of white marble and was larger than the Dursleys' television.

A fire was burning in the fireplace. Although it was summer, the fire wasn't hot; instead, it made people feel very comfortable.

But he stopped not because of the understated luxury of the furnishings, but because of the person sitting on the sofa.

There is no Englishman who doesn't know this person.

It was Princess Diana.

She had a gentle smile on her face, a smile more beautiful than any of her photos.

She saw Harry come in, stood up, and walked over.

"Harry," she said, her voice as gentle as a spring breeze, "welcome to our home."

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but couldn't utter a word.

He had seen her countless times on television, in newspapers, and in all those reports about the royal family.

But those things were too far removed from him. Only now, with Diana standing in front of him, did he realize what the word "nervous" truly meant.

"I—" he finally managed to squeeze out a few words, "Thank you."

Diana smiled, a smile even gentler than before.

She reached out and gently touched his head, very lightly and tenderly, as if afraid of hurting him.

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

Although he has no memory of his mother, he knows that this is the kind of action his mother would do.