Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

When the bell, like a signal of liberation, rang precisely on time, announcing the end of the History of Magic course, Draco was almost the first to spring up from his seat.

He brushed off non-existent dust from his robe with annoyance, as if trying to shake off the stale smell left by Professor Binns.

As he walked out of the classroom with the crowd, he quickened his pace to walk alongside Henry, his gray eyes filled with inquiry.

"Your Highness," he lowered his voice, his tone somewhere between casual and tentative, "at least there are no classes today. You told me yesterday that we wanted to talk? About the academy, or something else."

He was clearly preoccupied with Dumbledore's summons at breakfast and the many mysteries surrounding Henry.

Henry turned his head and gave a gentle, knowing smile.

"Of course. I happen to have prepared some refreshments. There's a quiet, empty classroom on the second floor; why don't we go sit there? It's better than being disturbed in the hallway or common room."

Draco raised an eyebrow, surprised but more curious about the suggestion to prepare tea and refreshments and an empty classroom.

"An empty classroom? Are you sure?"

"House-elves can sometimes provide helpful guidance."

Henry said it casually, without offering any further explanation.

"Just the two of us? Or do you think Miss Parkinson might also be interested? I wouldn't mind having another person to talk to."

Draco was taken aback, not expecting Henry to bring up Pansy.

He quickly weighed the options: Pansy was talkative, but her family had a clear stance and she was extremely sensitive to social signals, so bringing her along was actually a good choice.

"Pansy? Hmm...she's usually interested in these kinds of things. I'll go ask her."

He turned and walked toward Pansy, who was gathered with several girls, and whispered a few words to her.

Pansy's eyes lit up immediately. She glanced quickly at Henry over Draco's shoulder, then nodded without hesitation, her face beaming with excitement.

The abandoned classroom on the second floor had clearly been carefully cleaned; the dust was gone, and several tall windows let in plenty of afternoon sunlight, casting warm patches of light on the worn but clean floor.

In the center of the classroom, several desks were pushed together and covered with a thick, dark green tablecloth embroidered with the Slytherin House crest.

On the table, a dazzling set of bone china teaware was already in place, its thin walls translucent and inlaid with fine platinum edges.

A magnificent three-tiered silver pastry stand stands tall: the bottom layer features neatly arranged, crustless penny sandwiches of various flavors (cucumber, smoked salmon, jam); the middle layer consists of scones exuding an enticing buttery aroma, served with Devonshire clotted cream and homemade strawberry rose jam; and the top layer displays miniature French desserts such as fruit tarts, macarons, and chocolate mousse cups.

Two high-backed armchairs and a small chair with a backrest surround the table, clearly just set up, with the distinctive aroma of Darjeeling tea, reminiscent of muscat grapes, filling the air.

When Pansy walked into the classroom, she gasped and instinctively covered her mouth with her fingers.

"Merlin..." she murmured, her gaze sweeping from the tea set to the pastries, and then to Henry's calm face.

This is by no means a regular product from Hogwarts kitchens, nor even something easily available in Diagon Alley—it is an extremely expensive, silent statement.

Although Draco tried his best to remain calm, the shock in his eyes was equally difficult to conceal.

He was no stranger to luxury, but the speed and quietness with which such a complete and ceremonial afternoon tea set was beyond his comprehension.

"Please have a seat, Miss Parkinson, Draco." Henry gestured as if he were the host, taking a seat first in the armchair of the head of the table with a smooth and natural movement. "I hope the tea is still at the right temperature."

He picked up the silver teapot and poured tea into three cups. The tea was a beautiful amber color, steaming gently.

He then added a little milk to his cup.

Every movement was incredibly elegant, exuding a natural grace.

"You can add whatever you need yourself," he said to the two of them.

Pansy picked up the incredibly light bone china cup with almost awe, took a careful sip, and nearly dropped it because of its lightness.

"This is so exquisite, Your Highness." Her voice was much softer than usual, lacking its usual sharp and unrestrained quality, like a twisted clamp.

"It's just a habit."

Henry smiled and used his silver tongs to place a jam penny sandwich on his small plate.

"At Hogwarts, it's comforting to retain some of the old habits. Especially," he paused, looking at Draco, "after being influenced by Professor Binns."

Draco chuckled, but he really loved the atmosphere!

For a fleeting moment, he felt as if he were more sophisticated than his father.

"It's definitely more interesting than hearing those old-fashioned names."

He took a bite of the scones and spread butter and jam on them as Henry had demonstrated; they tasted surprisingly good.

"You mentioned talking about the House... What do you think of Slytherin? Is it what you think?"

"Very organized and well-structured." Henry put down his teacup, leaning forward slightly, appearing focused and candid. "For example, the arrangement of these dormitories is quite interesting. I can sense that everything here follows some unseen rules, and I must admit, Miss Farley is very capable."

Pansy immediately chimed in, her words quickening: "Oh, Miss Farley! She's a top student in fifth grade. Everyone says she'll definitely go straight to the Ministry of Magic after graduation, maybe even the Minister's office! She's always meticulous in her work, and almost no Slytherin dislikes her."

"Power always favors those who are organized, wherever it may be," Henry commented gently, then subtly changed the subject, "So, what about the curriculum? Draco seems to have some reservations about the history of magic."

"I look forward to Friday's Potions class; that's where a wizard's true value is demonstrated."

Draco straightened his back, regaining his familiarity.

"Those complex recipes and precise operations cannot be mastered by rote memorization or recklessness."

He gave a meaningful smirk, clearly thinking of a certain red-haired Gryffindor.

"My father often said that potions is the culmination of wisdom, bloodline, and patience."

"That sounds reasonable." Henry nodded, not refuting, but turning to Pansy, "And Miss Parkinson? What subjects are you particularly interested in?"

Pansy, caught off guard by the direct question, blushed slightly. "I... I think Defense Against the Dark Arts would be interesting. Although this year's professor, Quirrell, seems a bit strange."

She wrinkled her nose: "But I've heard that some ancient spells are very elegant, like..."

She glanced at the silverware on the table, "just like these tea sets."

"A wonderful analogy," Henry praised. "The combination of elegance and strength is the essence of many ancient crafts."