Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Henry saw through his mother's thoughts and smiled, reassuring her, "Mom, don't worry. If Hagrid knew I was giving the gift to you, he would be very happy too."

You know what, he thought Hagrid would definitely get along with his mother. After all, Diana's personality was completely out of place in the wicked royal family; she was genuinely kind.

Since the child had said so, Diana accepted the gift.

The last gift was in a light blue velvet bag, with a thin silver cord tied to the opening.

He untied the string and poured a small object out of the bag.

It was a jade safety buckle, its color warm and lustrous, with a circle of flowing cloud patterns inlaid with extremely fine silver wire around the edge. A red tassel hung from the bottom of the safety buckle, with a small silver bead tied to the end.

There was also a note in the bag, written in neat Chinese characters:

"May you always be safe and sound, and may we meet again year after year. — Zhang Qiu"

Henry looked at the note and smiled slightly.

The saying "one's handwriting reflects one's character" perfectly illustrates this point.

(Zhang Qiubushi)

At midday, William and Harry ran in from the garden, covered in snow.

"Henry! We built a snowman!" William shouted, "Bigger than last year's!"

"Come look!" Harry tugged at his sleeve. "We even put your scarf on the snowman!"

Henry was dragged out of the living room by the two of them.

In the garden, a huge snowman stood in the middle of the lawn. It was indeed bigger than last year's snowman—about as tall as Harry.

The snowman wore an old top hat that looked like it had been found somewhere, and a ribbon was tied around its neck...

Ok?

Is that his scarf?

"William," Henry said, "is that my scarf?"

William nodded confidently.

"Yes! That way the snowman won't be cold!"

Henry looked at the scarf—the cashmere scarf his grandmother had given him, which was now wrapped around a snowman's neck, with a few withered leaves still clinging to it.

Henry fell silent.

Then he bent down and ruffled William's hair.

"Use your own next time."

William blinked, looking completely innocent.

"But my scarf is too small."

"Then let's make a small one." Henry rubbed his younger brother's head hard again.

William nodded thoughtfully.

Harry was already digging in the snow, preparing to build another one.

During lunch, Diana heard about the scarf and laughed so hard she almost spat out her soup.

"That scarf?" she asked Henry. "The one your grandmother gave you?"

Henry nodded.

Diana laughed even harder.

Does your grandma know?

"I don't know yet," Henry said honestly.

"When she finds out," Diana said, wiping away her tears, "William will probably get a scolding."

Charles looked up from behind the newspaper and glanced at William.

"Serves you right."

William shrank back, pretending not to hear.

At noon, Henry sat alone in the living room.

The moving painting of Slytherin sits on the mantelpiece, depicting him drinking tea and occasionally nodding at him.

Not long after, someone came to announce that Sir Arnold had arrived.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they went to the study on the second floor.

"Your Highness," Sir Arnold said, sitting on the sofa, "Humphrey told me about last night's conversation, and after discussion, we believe that you do indeed need some simulations and rehearsals."

"Yes, Sir."

Sir Arnold smiled slightly: "Then let's begin."

He stood up and pulled a folder from his briefcase on the table.

"Your Highness," he said, flipping through the files in the folder, "Sir Humphrey's three pieces of advice are very concise, but some details still need to be added."

He walked back to the sofa and sat down again.

"Theory is one thing, practice is another. Mr. Fudge won't lay out his intentions to you point by point like Humphrey did. He'll use all sorts of methods—including but not limited to probing, hinting, and enticement—to achieve his goals."

He looked up and met Henry's eyes.

"What you need to prepare is not a set of standard answers, but the flexibility to deal with various situations."

Henry nodded. "I understand, sir."

“Alright,” Arnold said, “we’ll start with the simplest one.”

"The simplest one?" Henry asked.

"Yes." Arnold pulled a piece of paper from the folder and placed it on the coffee table. "What do you think Mr. Fudge will talk about when he first meets you?"

Henry thought for a moment: "They'll probably start with small talk, asking about the holidays, their families, and their studies at Hogwarts."

"Yes." Arnold nodded. "These are all preludes. The real tests will be hidden behind these pleasantries."

He pushed the paper forward.

"Take a look at this."

Henry looked down.

The paper contained a handwritten dialogue script, consisting of scattered sentences with red annotations next to them.

Henry read through the lines one by one, his brow furrowing slightly.

"This..." He looked up, "This is a bit much."

Arnold smiled slightly.

"Your Highness, this is only the possibility of our first meeting. Fudge won't reveal all his cards at once; he'll try little by little, one step at a time. So what you need to prepare is not a formulaic answer, but a way of thinking."

He moved the paper to the side.

"Let's start with the simplest one. Suppose Mr. Fudge asks, 'How is His Highness settling in at Hogwarts?' How would you answer?"

Henry thought for a moment: "Very good, thank you for your concern, Minister."

"Too simple." Arnold shook his head. "Mr. Fudge will think you're just giving me the runaround. But you can't say too much either—if you say too much, he'll seize on something and keep probing."

He paused for a moment, then continued speaking.

"Try this: 'Very good, Minister. Hogwarts courses are very interesting, the professors are very responsible, and the students are all very friendly.' — That's true, no one can find fault with it... but have you noticed?"

Henry carefully recalled the sentence: "Dumbledore wasn't mentioned."

“Yes.” Arnold nodded. “You said ‘professors,’ which is plural. It includes Dumbledore, but doesn’t highlight him. If Mr. Fudge continues to ask ‘how Professor Dumbledore is to you,’ you can say ‘he’s good to all students’—both fact and vague.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully.

“One more,” Arnold continued. “What would you say if Mr. Fudge asked, ‘I heard you and Professor Dumbledore are on good terms?’”

Henry thought about it this time.

"Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and we often meet in the Great Hall. He cares about all the students."