Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

In the days that followed, Henry clearly sensed a change in the way people looked at him in the corridor.

Some people would whisper among themselves as he passed by, some would step aside to make way for him and nod in greeting, and a few lower-grade Hufflepuff girls would blush and quickly say "Yesterday's game was really exciting" before running away when they saw him.

Henry responded as usual, nodding and smiling to thank the three-piece suitcase, his pace unhurried, as if this were just a routine he was already used to.

Draco was both proud and embarrassed about this.

What's impressive is that "our people" have become the center of attention across the entire school; what's frustrating is—

"Why do they talk like, 'Oh, there are good people in Slytherin after all'?" he grumbled, stabbing a piece of smoked salmon sandwich with his silver fork during afternoon tea. "As if you were some rare species!"

"They're a rare species to begin with," Pansy said matter-of-factly. "Have there ever been a prince in the entire history of Hogwarts? A prince who could become a Seeker and catch the Snitch in his first year? There are only a few—"

"Alright, alright..." Draco interrupted her, but didn't argue.

Daphne quietly held the cup in both hands and sipped her tea, her eyes narrowed into crescent moons.

Pansy ultimately said nothing, but simply pushed her scones toward Draco.

In the last week of November, Hogwarts welcomed its first real snowfall.

The snow began to fall silently at night, and by the next morning, the entire castle was wrapped in a thick white blanket.

The pine branches in the Forbidden Forest were bent low under the weight, and the grass on the Quidditch pitch had completely disappeared, leaving only a vast expanse of clean white.

Hagrid's hut, with smoke rising from its chimney in the snow, looked from afar like a gingerbread cake covered in icing.

"Rock crust cakes with a snowy scene," Harry commented as he rubbed his hands together as he stepped into the cabin, "all that's missing is a singing owl."

“Owls don’t sing,” Ron muttered, moving closer to the fireplace. “They just bury their heads in their food bowls.”

Hagrid laughed heartily and stuffed each of them with a large piece of freshly baked rock bread.

Henry arrived later, carrying a small jar of Balmoral honey and a newly knitted wool scarf—a scarf Lucy had knitted on a leisurely afternoon, red with gold trim, just like the Gryffindor style.

He had inquired about Hagrid and learned that he was from Gryffindor.

"For me?" Hagrid took the scarf, paused for two seconds, and his beetle-like black eyes suddenly became moist. "Merlin, this...this is too kind, Henry! I haven't received a hand-knitted scarf in so many years..."

He clumsily wrapped the scarf around his thick neck, three times with some left over. The gold and red scarf made his beard look even messier and his smile even more naive.

"It suits you very well," Henry said earnestly.

Tooth excitedly circled around Henry, its tail wagging like a propeller.

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance and suddenly realized that they should learn some social skills from this Slytherin—at least not always freeload off Hagrid with empty hands.

Hermione didn't come—she was in the library preparing for final exams, supposedly to memorize the "Standard Spells: Elementary" textbook by heart... I just don't know why she'd be preparing for final exams in the middle of the school year. Maybe that's what makes top students different.

"How's the Forbidden Forest doing lately?" Henry asked casually, taking the large cup of strong tea Hagrid offered him.

Hagrid's smile faded slightly. He put down the enormous teapot and sighed. "Things aren't going well."

"Something's not going well?" Harry immediately became alert.

"Hmm..." Hagrid hesitated for a moment, his thick fingers unconsciously rubbing the rim of his teacup. "The centaurs say that the stars tell them that something bad might happen in the Forbidden Forest soon... I'm wondering if it's those despicable poachers, or something else entirely."

The atmosphere in the cabin grew somber; the crackling fire in the fireplace seemed unable to dispel the sudden gloom that had descended upon it.

Henry put down his teacup and said softly, "The magical creatures of the Forbidden Forest are your friends, Hagrid. If anyone—or anything—dares to harm them in the Forbidden Forest, you will not let him get away with it."

Hagrid raised his eyes, remained silent for a long time, and then nodded vigorously.

"You're right, Henry. I won't let him get away with this."

The snow had stopped when they left the cabin. Harry walked beside Henry and suddenly said, "What you just said... Hagrid seems genuinely comforted."

Henry turned his head, smiled, and said, "Hagrid is the kind of person who needs to be sure he's trusted."

Harry thought for a moment and nodded in agreement.

Ron followed behind, and for the first time ever, he didn't say a word in rebuttal.

Hogwarts was already filled with a festive atmosphere in December, and the professors had begun decorating the Great Hall.

Holly and ivy entwine around the marble stair railings of the castle's main building, the armor is polished to a gleaming shine, and a sprig of mistletoe is inserted behind each visor.

The auditorium looked beautiful and magnificent, with colorful ribbons made of holly and mistletoe hanging on the walls. Eleven tall Christmas trees stood all around, some with sparkling icicles and others with hundreds of candles twinkling.

Professor McGonagall spent the entire afternoon supervising Professor Flitwick as he hung up the Christmas lights—the latter insisted on hanging the star-shaped lights to resemble the constellation Cancer, while McGonagall thought it was unnecessary and a waste of time.

"Eleven Christmas trees...there will be twelve when Hagrid brings the last one," Professor Flitwick said, standing on a stack of books and pointing to the Great Hall with his little finger. "Presenters must be piled under each tree! It's a tradition!"

"The tradition is that you wrap the lights into a star map every year," Professor McGonagall said expressionlessly, "and then I have to readjust it every year."

"That's because you don't understand the beauty of astronomy!" Professor Flitwick argued.

Dumbledore happened to pass by, joined the annual debate with a smile, and successfully steered the conversation toward the more constructive question of whether the turkey in the dining hall should be served with cranberry sauce or orange marmalade this year.

Henry sat at the Slytherin table, and as soon as he looked up, he saw that the entrance to the Great Hall was completely blocked by a large fir tree. He saw two large feet sticking out from under the tree and heard the loud wheezing sound. He knew that Hagrid must be behind the tree.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree has been brought in too—shall we put it in that corner over there?" Professor McGonagall said.

Henry noticed that the Gryffindor trio stretched their necks and walked up to Hagrid, saying something to him. Hagrid looked terrified and waved his hands repeatedly. After the trio left, Hagrid remained standing there, looking angry.