Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 150 The Meaning of Friendship

He didn't finish speaking, but Diana understood.

"But you don't know whether they're friends with you because you're Harry Potter, or because you're Harry?"

Harry nodded, his gaze falling on the strawberry tart in his hand.

Diana remained silent for a moment, then sat down beside him.

She gently held Harry's hand, her eyes filled with tenderness.

"Harry, you know, I had the same question when I married Charles."

Harry looked up at her, somewhat surprised.

"Many people think that I am just an ordinary girl who married into the royal family and got a life that everyone envies."

But I've also asked myself—do they like me because I'm Diana, or because I'm the Princess of Wales?

She smiled, a smile that even Harry could see was filled with emotion.

"Later I figured it out. What really matters isn't why others like you, but whether you believe you deserve to be liked."

She looked into Harry's eyes and said earnestly, "Ron wrote to you, worried about you, and asked Henry to help find you. Hermione went to class with you, went on adventures with you, and faced dangers with you. They did all this not because you're the boy who survived," but because you are Harry—the Harry who would laugh with them, joke with them, and work together to solve problems."

Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but found himself unable to speak.

"And," Diana continued, winking playfully, "do you think Henry is the kind of person who would go to such lengths to save someone just because of the 'boy who survived a great calamity' title?"

Harry thought for a moment, then couldn't help but shake his head.

"He doesn't seem like it."

"So you see," Diana gently patted his hand, "you are you, without a doubt."

Harry was deeply moved. He never imagined that someone like Diana could empathize with him.

"Thank you, Your Highness Diana," he said gratefully.

Diana smiled and ruffled Harry's hair.

"Just call me Diana. 'Princess' is what outsiders call me. You're Henry's friend."

Before he could finish speaking, a series of hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

"Mommy! Mommy!" Harry's voice grew louder as he approached. "Henry said Harry's crying! Is he homesick?"

Diana and Harry turned to look at the doorway. Harry was standing there, still holding the plush dragon toy in his hand, his expression a mixture of worry and curiosity.

Harry opened his mouth, as if to say he hadn't cried, but Harry had already run over, standing on tiptoe, trying hard to see Harry's face clearly.

"You didn't cry?" He tilted his head. "Henry lied to me?"

"I didn't—" Harry had just started to speak when he heard Henry cough softly from the doorway.

Henry stood there, looking completely innocent.

"I only said he might be homesick, I didn't say he cried."

Harry blinked, then nodded.

"Oh." He turned to Harry. "Do you miss home?"

Harry paused for a moment.

homesick?

Can the Dursleys' house be called a house?

He shook his head.

"In no mood."

Harry was delighted.

"Okay! Let's go play! William is building with blocks, he's built a really tall tower, he says he'll build it to the ceiling!"

He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him outside.

Harry stumbled as he was pulled, and glanced back at Diana.

Diana smiled and waved at him.

"Go."

William's tower of blocks was indeed very tall, but it didn't reach the ceiling because it collapsed after only being half-built.

Harry laughed beside him, while William was so angry that his face turned red.

"You knocked it over!"

"I don't!"

"You have!"

"I don't!"

The two started arguing, and Harry stood by, unsure who to advise.

Henry walked over, glanced at the scattered blocks on the ground, and then at his two younger brothers.

"Why not just build another one?"

William and Harry exchanged a glance and nodded simultaneously.

"You help us set it up!" Harry tugged at Henry's sleeve.

Henry sighed, squatted down, and began picking up the building blocks.

Harry also crouched down to help pick them up.

"Is this how you usually are at home?" he asked.

Henry glanced at him.

"What?"

"Play peacemaker," Harry said.

"Pretty much," Henry said as he picked up his things. "They argue eight times a day, I'm used to it."

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

William leaned closer and asked him earnestly, "Harry, what color blocks do you like?"

"Green, I guess," Harry said uncertainly.

William nodded, picked out a few green pieces from a pile of blocks, and handed them to him.

"Then you'll wear the green part."

Harry took the blocks, looked at the green cube in his hand, and suddenly felt a warm feeling in his heart.

This feeling is somewhat similar to when I was with Ron Hermione, but also not quite the same.

Ron and Hermione are his classmates and adventure partners.

And the people here, he felt, whether it was his imagination or not, as if they treated him like a member of their family.

He didn't know how to describe the feeling, but he knew he didn't hate it.

An afternoon was spent building blocks, playing chess, and listening to Harry tell the story of "Noberta".

The story of Norbert is actually just Harry making up all sorts of adventures for his toy dragon.

Sometimes Nobeta flies to the moon, sometimes Nobeta defeats dragons—even though it is a dragon itself, Harry doesn't care about logic.

Harry listened with great interest.

He discovered that listening to a six-year-old tell a story was actually quite interesting. You didn't need to think too much, you didn't need to analyze anything; you just needed to listen and occasionally exclaim "Wow!"

Harry finished telling a story and looked up at him.

Do you like listening to this?

Harry nodded, and, against his conscience, said, "I like it."

Harry was pleased and started telling the next story.

William rolled his eyes.

"He's said it eight times already."

"I like it even on the eighth viewing!" Harry said confidently.

Charles returned in the evening.

He walked into the living room and saw Harry sitting on the carpet with Harry. Harry was gesturing something and Harry was listening attentively.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Having fun?"

Harry looked up, saw him, and felt a little nervous.

"Your Majesty—Your Highness."