Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 154 Ron in Despair

"Your Highness, are you—are you serious?" George's voice was trembling.

Philip looked at him, clearly very serious.

Do I look like I'm joking?

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

His mind went blank, with only one thought playing on repeat: This old man must be crazy.

George had already realized what was happening, and a big smile spread across his face.

He was now 100% certain that although the old man was of high status and very old, he was definitely one of their kind.

Oh, excluding Ron's "them".

"Of course! Your Highness, please get in the car!" George said cheerfully.

He opened the back door, made an exaggerated "please" gesture, and even bowed. His flamboyant movements were such that it was a waste that he wasn't in a stage play.

Philip walked over, bent down, and sat down.

His movements were as nimble as a young man's; you couldn't tell he was over seventy.

He didn't even hold the door open; he just sat down.

Fred jumped into the driver's seat, and George sat in the passenger seat.

Ron was pushed to the back seat and sat next to Philip.

"Your Highness, you—you're really not afraid?" His expression was as if he had seen a ghost.

Philip glanced at him.

"What's there to be afraid of? I flew fighter jets when I was young, and that was way more exciting than this thing."

Ron opened his mouth, unsure of what to say.

fighter?

Is that the same thing as this dilapidated car that could fall apart at any moment?

But the car had already started.

The engine emitted a suspicious whirring sound, like an old smoker coughing, or like an old pot cooking porridge.

Then the car body began to sway, slowly rising higher and higher, until it finally floated in mid-air.

Ron gripped the seat tightly and closed his eyes.

Philip leaned out of the window and looked down.

The garden lights grew dimmer, and the palace's outline became clearer in the night. In the distance, the city of London shone brightly, like a glittering sea of ​​stars, twinkling and boundless.

"Good!" he shouted, his voice carrying on the night wind, "Fly higher!"

George pulled the lever, and the car suddenly lurched upwards.

Ron let out a scream from the back seat.

"Young man!" Prince Philip's eyes lit up, and he patted Ron on the shoulder. "How can you be so slow! Back in my day, flying fighter jets was way more exciting! Go higher!"

The car suddenly lurched upwards again.

"Do a somersault!" Philip shouted excitedly.

"Alright!" Fred's eyes lit up; he preferred this kind of excitement.

The car flipped 360 degrees in the air, and Ron screamed in the back seat, his voice as shrill as a pig being slaughtered.

Philip laughed heartily, like a child who had received a new toy.

Harry stood by the window, watching the car flip and tumble in the air, his expression complex.

Henry stood beside him, watching with a very relaxed and content expression.

"Your grandfather—" Harry's voice was a little unsteady, "has it always been like this?"

"Pretty much," Henry shrugged. "He likes new things, and he especially loves speeding around in cars."

"Aren't you afraid of any danger?" Harry asked again.

"No." Henry glanced downstairs and saw three men in suits with their hands in their pockets.

They were wizards, Kensington Palace's private security detail, and retired Aurors hired at great expense—all seasoned veterans.

Harry, of course, knew nothing about this; he just thought the scene was a bit surreal.

An elderly man in his seventies, wearing a bathrobe, was riding in a dilapidated flying car, doing somersaults in the air.

"He—" Harry carefully chose his words, "well, he's really special."

Henry nodded: "It is quite special."

My grandpa has done things much more exciting than this, this is nothing.

The car flew in the air for half an hour before landing. During that half hour, Ron's screams never stopped, sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes near, sometimes far, like some kind of strange background music.

In the past half hour, the car has flipped eight times, made ten dives, and even drawn a giant heart shape in the sky above Kensington Palace—George’s idea, supposedly a gift for Her Majesty the Queen, even though the Queen herself is not here.

When the car finally landed, there was another loud bang.

Ron climbed out of the car, his legs so weak he could barely stand.

He leaned against the car door, panting heavily. His face was even paler than before, as white as a sheet of parchment, and he looked even worse than Nick, who was almost headless.

A tuft of his hair stood up, whether from the wind or from being frightened, it was hard to tell.

"I will never—" he began, but then realized he had already said it once, so he changed it to, "I will never—"

He still hadn't finished speaking, so he simply stopped, plopped down on the grass, looked up at the sky, and stared blankly into the distance.

George and Fred, on the other hand, were in high spirits, bombarding Prince Philip with questions.

"Your Highness, what do you think?"

"Excellent!" Philip exclaimed, his eyes shining, his face still flushed from the flight. "It was even more thrilling than my fighter jet! Mine wasn't this bumpy!"

He patted George on the shoulder, as if he had seen a promising talent and was full of admiration.

"Young man, your skills are pretty good."

George's face turned even redder, whether from excitement or shyness, it was hard to tell.

"Your Highness flatters me. I was just flying around casually."

"You think you can do a somersault just by flying around casually?" Philip laughed heartily. "Then what would you do if you took it seriously?"

Fred chimed in from the side, "When he's flying seriously, we're usually standing on the ground."

Why?

"Because I'm afraid he'll fly away and disappear."

Philip laughed again, putting his arms around George and Fred's shoulders, looking like the three of them were best buddies.

"You two are interesting."

George and Fred exchanged a glance, and smiles bloomed on their faces at the same time.

They are now 100% certain that this old man is definitely one of their kind.

"Your Highness," George leaned closer, lowered his voice, and said mysteriously, "would you like to try out our new invention?"

"It's called a 'rapid dive'—it's like plunging down from a great height and pulling back up just before hitting the ground." "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Fred chimed in. "It's incredibly exciting! Even more exciting than a somersault! That's what Ron is most afraid of!"

"A rapid dive?" Philip became even more interested.

"Yes, like this—" George gestured a diving arc with his hand, then suddenly raised his hand, "Pull him up!"

"sounds good."

"Would you like to give it a try? Right now?"

"George!" a voice called from the grass, weak yet filled with an overwhelming despair, "Don't..."

It's Ron.

He was still lying on the grass, but upon hearing George's words, he struggled to lift his head.

I'm begging you, please let me live until tomorrow—