Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Hearing Henry's reply, Arnold nodded approvingly.

"Very good. It's true that you often meet in the auditorium, which implies that your relationship is public. It's also true that he cares about all the students, which implies that he doesn't treat you differently."

He paused for a moment, then continued speaking.

"But Mr. Fudge might ask: 'Did he speak with you privately?'"

Henry thought for a moment and replied, "...Yes."

“Yes, you can’t say no. Because it’s a fact—he did contact you. But how can you say it in a way that Fudge would think is normal?” Arnold continued.

"He mentioned it once or twice. It was always about school, like encouraging me to participate in more intercollegiate activities," Henry replied.

Arnold nodded.

"Okay. 'About school'—that's a very broad topic. It could be anything, or nothing at all; if Mr. Fudge is interested in what you two talked about, you could say, 'It was mainly some advice, like getting to know students in other colleges.' That's all true, but the information is vague."

After saying that, he leaned back on the sofa and looked at Henry.

"Your Highness, have you noticed that these answers have one thing in common?"

Henry laughed: "It's all true."

“Yes, it’s all true. You didn’t lie, but you didn’t tell the whole truth either,” Arnold said. “You made Mr. Fudge think you were answering his questions honestly, but in reality, you were just selectively stating the facts that wouldn’t get you in trouble.”

"It takes practice, because if you lie, Mr. Fudge—or any experienced politician—will find out sooner or later. But if you only tell the truth, only the truth that won't hurt you, then your answer will be impeccable."

Henry seemed to understand something; he recalled a sentence he had heard in his previous life.

The highest level of lying is telling the truth.

Sir Arnold led him through each scene several times.

It didn't take much effort; Henry was like a sponge, particularly adept at absorbing this kind of knowledge.

Or rather, it was his killer instinct.

"Your Highness, you learn very quickly," Sir Arnold praised approvingly.

Perhaps this is nothing to seasoned veterans, but for a twelve-year-old child, it is already a gift from heaven.

"Thank you, sir," Henry said.

Arnold shook his head: "You're welcome. You're good at learning on your own. You know, I've worked in Whitehall for decades and seen countless young people. Some are smart, some are hardworking, some are ambitious, but there aren't many people like you who are both talented and dedicated."

"Ten-minute break." He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the snow-covered garden outside. "Your Highness, you can get some fresh air and clear your head. We'll continue later."

Henry nodded and stood up as well.

He walked to the window and stood next to Arnold.

Outside the window, the snow started falling again sometime earlier.

"Sir," he suddenly spoke, "what you just said... about telling the truth but not the whole story, isn't that also part of the art of deception?"

Arnold didn't answer immediately; he was silent for a moment, then turned to look at Henry.

"Your Highness, do you know what deception is?"

Henry thought for a moment: "To lie?"

“Yes. Lying is deception,” Arnold said with a smile. “But none of what you just said was a lie; you just didn’t tell the whole truth.”

"What's the difference? The difference is that those who tell lies will eventually be exposed because they need to cover up their previous lies with one lie after another. But those who only tell the truth but not everything never have to worry about being exposed—because everything they say is true."

He looked into Henry's eyes.

"Your Highness, the people you are about to face are not fools. Mr. Fudge is not a fool, and Mr. Dumbledore is even less so. If you try to deal with them with lies, they will see through you immediately. But if you only tell the truth, the truth that will not hurt you, they will be powerless against you."

He smiled and gave his final summary.

"I prefer to call it 'the art of speaking'."

After resting for a while, they sat down again.

"The next thing to watch out for..." Arnold opened the folder, "...is that Mr. Fudge is starting to try and win you over."

He placed a new sheet of paper on the coffee table and pushed it toward Henry.

Henry read on, line by line, his brow furrowing again.

"This..." he said, "is even harder than before."

“Yes.” Arnold nodded. “Because what happened just now was a test, now it’s an attempt to win him over. With a test, you can respond vaguely; but with an attempt to win him over, you need to make a choice—at least make Mr. Fudge feel that you are making a choice.”

"But you can choose not to choose."

Got it, it means choosing between yes or no, right?

"Suppose Mr. Fudge invites you to an event at the Ministry of Magic," Arnold asked. "How would you respond?"

Henry pondered for a moment and replied, "Thank you for the invitation, Minister. I need to check the schedule—Hogwarts coursework is quite demanding, and Quidditch training is also very busy."

Arnold nodded slightly: "Okay, neither refusing nor agreeing, giving him a vague promise, how will he react?"

"He would say, 'Of course, of course, studies come first. Let me know whenever you have time,'" Henry replied.

"Yes, he will be very tolerant and understanding. But he will remember in his heart that if the child doesn't agree immediately, it means he is still observing, so he will try harder."

Arnold gave this point with a meaningful smile.

"In the next round, he will offer even more benefits. For example..." He pointed to the second item on the paper: "Your mother, Princess Diana's, charitable work."

Henry's expression changed slightly: "You mean, he'll take advantage of my mother?"

“Not exploitation,” Arnold corrected. “It’s cooperation. He’ll say the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters is doing some work on aid for families of victims of magical accidents, and maybe it could work with the Royal Family’s charitable foundation. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Henry nodded. "That's a good thing."

“Yes, it’s a good thing, and you can’t refuse it. Because refusing a good thing would make you seem ungrateful,” Arnold said. “But if you accept, Fudge will have successfully linked you with his collaboration. From now on, when people see you, they will remember that you collaborated with Fudge.”

"I understand," Henry said. "I need to accept this cooperation, but I can't let people think I'm taking sides."

"Yes, so how did you do that?" Sir Arnold asked with a smile.