Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

The news spread through the school faster than France raised the white flag.

Henry's appointment as a Quidditch reserve player caused a minor stir in the Slytherin common room.

There was no Gryffindor-style cheering or hugging celebration. In Slytherin's eyes, winning or losing was secondary; not losing to Gryffindor was the most important thing.

"Flint finally did something smart," fifth-grader Derek Valentine whispered to his friend, leaning back on the most comfortable sofa by the fireplace.

He's going to take the OWLs exam next year, and he usually looks down on these childish sports activities, but he's showing unusual interest right now.

"That Wells guy is something else. My brother said that the way he saved Longbottom in flight class wasn't something a novice could do."

"What's even more remarkable is that he saved Gryffindor." Elena Rozier, a classmate, took a sip of red wine.

She had secretly brought it to school from home and quietly placed it in a hidden compartment in her wardrobe.

"This gives us something to talk about—Slytherin students risked their lives to save people from rival houses, while Gryffindor only cared about their Seeker."

Valentine raised an eyebrow: "When did you become so intelligent, Elena?"

“My father said so,” Rozier said calmly. “Those old foxes at the Ministry of Magic have been talking about the Muggle royal family lately. If this Wells is really as rumored, then perhaps we should reassess some of our positions.”

"It'll be the way we do it," Valentine scoffed. "He might be some kind of prince in Muggle society, but in Slytherin, he can't act all high and mighty like that!"

On the other side of the fireplace, the first-grade group was more direct.

"I knew he could do it!" Draco said proudly to the Slytherin freshmen gathered around him. "Flint isn't a fool; he can tell who's truly valuable. Prince Henry isn't just a good flyer; he thinks differently from us."

Pansy, without looking up, reached out to rub the cat's head and said, "The key isn't that he got into the team, but how he got in. Flint's recognition of him, praising his talent, what does that mean? It means he didn't get in through connections, but through ability."

Daphne sat beside her, reading a book about potions.

She looked up and added softly, "And he's smart. He said he's a reserve player and might not play this season. That gives him a safety net without being too flashy—unlike some people."

She glanced meaningfully in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower.

Crabbe and Gore listened with a mixture of understanding and confusion, while focusing on a plate of extra chocolate chip cookies that they had gotten from the kitchen.

For them, Henry becoming a reserve player meant only one thing: when they went to the stadium to watch training in the future, they could ask Henry to help them get some more snacks from the house-elf in the kitchen.

They discovered that Henry had special access to this information.

Meanwhile, in the girls' dormitory area, Millison Burst was practicing some kind of hair-styling spell in front of the mirror while chatting with her roommates.

"Did you notice the red marks on his wrist? They were from the flight lesson." She said, letting a strand of hair curl into a neat bun. "They've almost faded now, but they must have hurt a lot. He didn't utter a single sound."

“My uncle works at St. Mungo,” another girl whispered. “He said catching someone from a fall with bare hands can easily cause ligament sprains or even fractures. Henry must have used some kind of shock-absorbing charm, or his flying skills are really precise enough to cushion most of the impact.”

"Whether it's the other way around," Millison concluded, "it shows he's not simple."

The most interesting observation came from a chessboard in the corner of the common room. Miss Farley was playing wizard chess with Terence Higgs, another Slytherin prefect.

Her king has just captured Higgs' castle, but she doesn't seem to care about the game.

"What do you think?" Higgs asked as he moved his bishop.

Farley tapped his fingers lightly on the chess pieces: "Professor Snape's decision was wise. It was both a response to Professor McGonagall's exception and a way to maintain flexibility. Henry probably won't actually play this season unless necessary."

"But training changes a lot of things," Higgs said. "Flint won't let a useless person take up training time. If Henry is really as good as the rumors say..."

"Then next year we might have a really competitive Seeker," Farley continued. "That's important for Slytherin, you know, Potter's father was a formidable rival to Slytherin, leading Gryffindor to victory over Slytherin."

Higgs laughed: "You're starting to sound more and more like the Dean, Gemma."

"I'm just stating the facts," Farley said calmly, then moved her queen. "General."

The atmosphere in the auditorium was noticeably different at breakfast the next day.

At the Gryffindor long table, Harry was being patted on the shoulder by his twin brothers in turn.

"Well done, Harry!" Fred (or George, it's hard to tell) shouted. "You've successfully stirred up a sense of crisis in those vipers!"

"Now they need to find a first-year to fill in!" another twin chimed in. "But seriously, can that Henry Welshman really fly? I heard he saved Neville?"

Neville sat a short distance away, his face as red as his memory orb. Hearing his name mentioned, he whispered, "He really saved me. I... I couldn't control the broom at all, and if it weren't for him, I might have broken my neck."

"Even worse, being expelled from school."

Hermione looked up from her pile of textbooks and took the conversation, tossing her tousled hair.

"According to 'Hogwarts: A History,' students need a recommendation from their house head if they wish to be allowed to join the house's sports team under special circumstances. Professor McGonagall vouched for Harry, so it's not surprising that Professor Snape vouched for His Highness Henry, but it does create an interesting precedent."

Ron stuffed a sausage into his mouth and mumbled, "Forget about precedents, I just want to know how well he flies. Malfoy is bragging everywhere, making him sound like a saint. Anyone who didn't know better would think they'd found another Merlin."

“I’ve seen it on TV before,” Hermione continued her analysis. “Members of the royal family undergo rigorous equestrian training, and equestrianism requires similar balance and spatial awareness as flying, so His Highness Henry may indeed have an advantage.”