Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

The next morning, as Henry walked into the auditorium, the simulated morning light on the ceiling was turning golden.

The long table was already piled high with oatmeal, smoked fish, bacon, sausages, and various bread rolls spread with butter and jam, filling the air with the rich aroma of food.

Most of the freshmen, especially those at the Gryffindor table, were excitedly enjoying fried eggs and syrup pies.

Henry sat down at the middle of the Slytherin table, and his plate was quickly filled with what he had chosen: a small bowl of cereal with milk, accompanied by a dish of fresh berries; two perfectly toasted whole-wheat breads with slightly crisp edges, topped with only a thin layer of strawberry jam; a boiled egg; and a small glass of water.

This contrasts sharply with the piles of fried food and sweet pastries on the surrounding plates.

"You're eating this?" Draco sat down opposite him, a plate of grilled sausage and fried egg drizzled with rich gravy in front of him, his tone tinged with shock.

You're a prince, and this is all you eat for breakfast?

"I'm used to it."

Henry picked up the silver spoon, his movements as composed as ever.

"In the palace, every meal is carefully prepared by a nutritionist, and breakfast is usually not this lavish."

He used euphemisms, his gaze sweeping over a plate not far away where a Hufflepuff student was pouring copious amounts of honey syrup over a stack of waffles.

Draco thoughtfully sliced ​​his sausage, not pressing the matter further, but clearly taking the detail to heart.

Crabbe and Goyle made no attempt to hide their bewilderment at the lack of substantial food on Henry's plate, and focused on dealing with their own mountain of food.

Halfway through breakfast, a phoenix with excessively ornate plumage gracefully flew over the auditorium, attracting the attention of all the students.

It landed precisely on the Slytherin table, next to Henry's cereal bowl, and placed the note it had been carrying in its mouth in front of him.

Henry picked up the note, which read: "Your Highness Henry, if it is convenient, please come to my office after breakfast. The password is 'Lemon Olaf'."

Why not Cheese Olaf?

After Henry read the note, he gave Phoenix a blueberry.

The phoenix swallowed the blueberry, raised its neck, let out a clear cry, and vanished in a flash of fire.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a buzzing of whispers.

Draco paused in his sausage-cutting motion, his grey eyes fixed intently on Henry.

Being summoned privately by the principal during breakfast is unusual in any college.

"It seems the headmaster is quite interested in you, Your Highness," Draco said tentatively.

"Perhaps it's just a routine welcome." Henry calmly finished the last sip of water and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

He already had some guesses in his mind.

The principal's office is located in a tall tower, at the end of a spiral staircase is a huge stone statue of a dripping beast.

After Henry uttered the command "Lemon Olaf," the statue jumped away, revealing the spiral staircase behind it.

The office was filled with the humming of all sorts of strange silverware, and the portraits of past principals on the walls were all pretending to doze off.

Dumbledore sat behind his large desk, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles smiling.

"Ah, Henry, please have a seat. Would you like a lemonade? Or a swarm of cockroaches?" He pushed a candy box toward him.

"No need, thank you, Principal." Henry sat down in the comfortable armchair, his posture upright but not at all reserved.

The principal's office is amazing. Every portrait of the principal in it is of a talented person, and they all speak so kindly. I love being there.

"I hope you've settled into life at Hogwarts and the unique atmosphere of Slytherin's cellars." Dumbledore's fingertips met. "I've called you here mainly to deliver a message from Buckingham Palace and to confirm a small arrangement with you."

He waved his wand gently, and a wax-sealed copy of the document bearing the royal coat of arms floated lightly to Henry's side. The document's contents were concise and to the point.

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has donated a substantial Galleon to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in her personal capacity to support the transition and academic progress of special needs students.

As an additional clause to the donation agreement (and with the consent of the current Headmaster Albus Dumbledore), Hogwarts will assign a house-elf to provide reasonable daily assistance to His Highness Henry Welsh.

“Your grandmother has been very thoughtful,” Dumbledore said, his gaze passing over his glasses. “Hogwarts accepts this kindness and understands and respects the principles of secrecy. This elf is named Lucy, and she will answer only to you, primarily assisting with mundane tasks such as laundry, preparing special supplies, or ensuring you are not disturbed by regular castle services when you need quiet solitude. She will not interfere with your studies, social life, or make you stand out in any way—to others, she is simply one of the many diligent elves at Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore paused, his tone softening yet still pointed: "Lucy is familiar with most of the castle's rules and knows how to keep quiet. I think that in Slytherin, having a truly reliable resource of your own might help you handle certain situations more easily. Of course, how and when to use it is entirely up to you."

Henry quickly grasped the multiple implications: his grandmother's protection extended into the magical world in this way, and Dumbledore's tacit approval of this limited special treatment was both a gesture of respect to the royal family and perhaps a form of benevolent assistance.

In Slytherin, where information is power, the value of absolutely reliable resources is self-evident.

"I understand, Headmaster. Thank you for your arrangement, and I am grateful for your kindest thanks." Henry bowed slightly. "I will use this convenience wisely."

The only class in the morning was Herbalism, held in a bright greenhouse on the first floor of the castle, together with Ravenclaw College.

Professor Sprout, a short, plump, kind-looking witch, brought not soil and seeds, but various dried herb specimens, vivid magical plant illustrations, and several slightly wriggling fungi in transparent jars.

The course content was indeed very basic. Considering that this was the first class, Professor Sprout basically spent his time explaining the course itself, as well as its significance.

After lunch, the only class in the afternoon was the history of magic.

When Henry and his Slytherin classmates entered the classroom, which smelled of dust and old parchment, Professor Binns had already begun his lecture in his monotonous, lullaby-like voice, on the topic of medieval European wizarding councils and the early prototypes of the International Law of Secrecy.

Draco was lost in thought almost from the moment he sat down, fiddling with his brand-new quill pen, clearly showing no interest in the long list of ancient wizards and lengthy treaty clauses that Professor Binns had listed.

Crabbe and Gore both entered a rhythmic nodding and dozing state within a minute.

Henry forced himself to concentrate, comparing these histories, told from a wizarding perspective, with the Muggle sources he had obtained from Sir Arnold.