Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Pansy bit her lip: "But what will the other Slytherins think? What if we're constantly associating with Hufflepuffs..."

"That's why we need to be careful and strategic," Henry said. "We won't make a big fuss about Slytherin and Hufflepuff becoming friends; we'll just show a friendly attitude. Collaborate in class, share materials in the library, and occasionally have informal exchanges like today... Gradually, this will become the norm."

Daphne said softly, "It's like playing Wizard's Chess, isn't it? Laying out plans in advance, establishing connections, and preparing for future possibilities."

"That's right," Henry smiled. "And we ourselves have benefited greatly from the process."

He watched the expressions on the three young Slytherins shift from confusion to understanding, and then to a hint of excitement, and knew that his words had had an effect.

"Remember," he concluded, "true power lies not in how many people you exclude, but in how many you can unite and influence. If Slytherin's ambition is confined to its own little circle, it will be a self-limiting ambition. Our vision will eventually transcend the house walls, reaching the whole of Hogwarts, and even the entire wizarding world."

Draco took a deep breath: "I understand, Your Highness. This is not a betrayal of tradition, but a smarter way of upholding it."

"A very accurate summary." Henry patted him on the shoulder. "Now, let's go back to the common room. I heard the kitchen has a special chocolate waterfall cake tonight; maybe we can try it."

That evening, the fireplace crackled in the Slytherin common room, and amidst the usual chatter about Quidditch, complaints about homework, or showing off new gadgets, something else quietly crept in.

"You mean, His Highness really thinks we should learn about Hufflepuff?" A third-year student leaned back on the sofa by the fireplace, his voice filled with disbelief—he had just overheard snippets of their afternoon conversation from Draco.

"It's not 'should,' it's 'could be' a strategy," Draco corrected. "Think about it, if we don't even know what Hufflepuff is thinking, how can we guarantee they won't be lured away by Gryffindor or Ravenclaw at a crucial moment? They have the most people."

"But what could they possibly be thinking?" another student scoffed. "They just spend all their time in the kitchen and around the heater."

“That’s prejudice,” Daphne interjected softly, sitting in a slightly further armchair with a potions notebook open on her lap. “I was thinking about His Highness’s words this afternoon. If everyone sees Hufflepuff this way, and we take the lead in showing genuine respect and understanding, even just a little, that goodwill could become an unexpected bargaining chip when needed. That’s so Slytherin, isn’t it? Doing what others don’t do, gaining value that others can’t see.”

Her words drew the attention of several upperclassmen. Miss Farley, the prefect who had been quietly reading, looked up, her gaze lingering on Daphne and Draco for a moment behind her gold-rimmed glasses before returning to her book.

Pansy pulled Millison aside and whispered in the girls' dormitory area, "He's right. We can't just focus on those Gryffindor bastards. The whole school is like a garden; pulling out a few weeds won't do any good. We need to understand the overall condition of the soil..."

She tried to use Henry's metaphorical style, which, although a little awkward, was quite apt.

Henry himself did not participate in these discussions; he noted that the system was already 99.50% complete.

Could it be...

Inviting people from different colleges to the tea party will add 0.25% to the progress?

When Theodore returned to his dorm, he was reading a spellbook by the light. When he heard Henry come in, he simply looked up and nodded slightly before continuing to immerse himself in his reading.

Henry liked this too. He sat at his desk and opened the latest summary sent by Sir Arnold—this time it was an analysis of the connection between the factional evolution of several Ministry of Magic officials in the early 20th century and major events in the Muggle world.

The neat handwriting on the parchment condenses the magnificent history into clear lines of interest and conflict.

When he reached a certain point, he paused slightly with his pen and wrote a line of small characters in the blank space next to it.

"The Hufflepuff family has many connections with industries related to land, herbs, and magical creatures, which may provide potential assistance to Muggle agriculture and ecological conservation."

……

Hufflepuff's common room.

A warm atmosphere filled the air with the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread. Hannah, Susan, and Justin huddled around a round table near the kitchen aisle, surrounded by a few other curious first-year students.

"...He really said that Hufflepuff is like the team's goalkeeper, the most solid support?" a boy named Wayne asked, his face showing the excitement of being recognized.

"Yes." Hannah nodded vigorously, her cheeks slightly flushed. "He also said that many wizards who did important work in history but are not well-known were Hufflepuffs."

"He also asked us what we thought of Slytherin," Justin added, "and listened very attentively without getting angry."

Susan concluded, "I think he might genuinely want to change something, not just in grand pronouncements, but in a very practical way. He said friends shouldn't be confined by the house; it sounds simple, but at Hogwarts..."

The little badgers fell into deep thought. Hufflepuffs are not often put in a position to think about such grand topics, but once their core values ​​of fairness and recognition are touched upon, their seriousness is beyond imagination.

"Maybe we can ask the Ravenclaw students if they want to review together before the next History of Magic class?" a voice suggested timidly. "They always seem to have a lot of materials."

"Or in herbalism class, help out a classmate who's struggling, no matter which college they're from," another voice chimed in.

Once a seed is planted, it will find its own space to grow.

Higher up in the castle, in the principal's office

Dumbledore stood before the Pensieve, within which the silvery-white threads of memory slowly spun.

Occasionally, he would use the tip of his wand to pick up a strand and gently put it back into the basin.

"Albus, you seem to be paying special attention to this year's new students," muttered the red-nosed wizard in a portrait on the wall.

Dumbledore looked up and smiled.

"Ravenclaw, a gardener always takes a second look at a new seedling when it sprouts, let alone such an unusual seedling—he is trying to water another patch of soil that we have long neglected."

"Through tea and conversation?" the wizard in another portrait shrieked. "Slytherin and Hufflepuff? Ha!"

The final "Ha" indicates the other party's extreme disapproval.

"When I was headmaster, the four houses of Hogwarts weren't as divided as they are now!"

"Oh yes, Phineas," Dumbledore said, unable to suppress a chuckle, "because back then, the four houses had a common enemy, didn't they?"

Principal Phineas Black's face froze instantly. He started muttering things like, "I'm doing this for the students' own good," and "There are always bad students trying to get the principal in check." For a moment, the principal's office was filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

"So, you're worried he'll become another Voldemort?" asked another portrait of the female headmistress.