The next morning, when Henry stepped into the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling already glowed with the soft golden light of simulated dawn.
The long tables groaned beneath platters of cereal, smoked fish, bacon, sausages, and rolls thick with butter and jam, their rich aromas drifting through the air.
Most of the first-years, especially those clustered at the Gryffindor table, attacked fried eggs and syrup-soaked pies with eager delight. Henry took his seat near the middle of the Slytherin table, and his plate filled at once with his careful choices: a modest bowl of cereal in milk, a small dish of fresh berries, two perfectly toasted slices of whole-wheat bread with crisp edges and only the thinnest layer of strawberry jam, a single boiled egg, and a glass of water.
The simple meal stood in sharp contrast to the mountains of fried food and sugary pastries surrounding him.
"You eat this?" Draco slid into the seat opposite him, a plate of grilled sausages and fried eggs swimming in rich gravy already before him. His tone carried genuine shock. "You, a prince, eat this for breakfast?"
"I'm used to it," Henry answered, lifting his silver spoon with the same composed grace as always. "In the palace every meal is prepared by a nutritionist. Breakfasts are rarely this lavish."
He spoke with deliberate understatement while his gaze drifted briefly toward a Hufflepuff student who was drowning a stack of muffins in honey syrup.
Draco considered the reply for a moment, then resumed chopping his sausage without pressing further, though the detail clearly lodged in his memory. Crabbe and Goyle, by contrast, made no effort to conceal their bewilderment at the modest portions on Henry's plate; they simply focused on devouring their own towering helpings.
Halfway through breakfast, an excessively ornate phoenix glided across the Great Hall, its brilliant plumage drawing every eye. It landed with precise grace beside Henry's cereal bowl and deposited the note it had carried in its beak.
Henry unfolded the parchment. "Your Highness Henry, if convenient, please come to my office after breakfast. The password is 'Lemon Olaf.'"
Why not Cheese Olaf?
After he finished reading, he offered the phoenix a single blueberry. The bird swallowed it, arched its neck in a clear, ringing cry, and vanished in a burst of flame.
A brief hush fell over the Slytherin table, followed by a rising murmur of whispers. Draco paused mid-cut, his grey eyes fixed on Henry with sharp interest.
Being summoned alone by the Headmaster during breakfast was unusual in any house.
"It seems the Headmaster is quite interested in you, Your Highness," Draco ventured.
"Perhaps it's only a routine welcome," Henry replied calmly. He finished his last sip of water and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He already held a few quiet guesses about the true purpose.
The Headmaster's office lay at the top of a tall tower. At the end of a spiraling staircase stood a giant gargoyle statue. When Henry spoke the words "Lemon Olaf," the statue leapt aside, revealing the winding steps beyond.
Inside, strange silver instruments hummed softly while the portraits of past Headmasters dozed on the walls. Dumbledore sat behind his large desk, blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.
"Ah, Henry, please have a seat," he said warmly. "Would you like a lemonade? Or perhaps a swarm of cockroaches?" He slid a candy box across the desk.
"No, thank you, Headmaster." Henry lowered himself into the comfortable armchair, posture upright yet entirely at ease. The Headmaster's office was fantastic; every portrait of the former headmasters inside possessed such high caliber, and they all spoke so kindly.
He absolutely loved being there.
"I hope you have made your initial adjustment to life at Hogwarts and to the unique atmosphere of Slytherin's cellars," Dumbledore continued, steepling his fingertips. "I summoned you primarily to deliver a message from Buckingham Palace and to confirm a small arrangement."
With a gentle wave of his wand, a wax-sealed copy of a document bearing the royal coat of arms floated before Henry. The text was concise.
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, in her personal capacity, has donated a substantial number of Galleons to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to support the transition and studies 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 steady above his spectacles. "Hogwarts accepts this kindness and understands and respects the principles of secrecy. This house-elf is named Lucy. She will answer only to you and will primarily assist with mundane tasks such as laundry, preparing special supplies, or ensuring you are not disturbed by regular castle services when you require quiet solitude. She will not interfere with your studies or your social life, nor will she make you stand out. To others she will simply appear as one of the many diligent house-elves at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore paused, his tone softening yet still pointed. "Lucy knows most of the castle's rules and understands the value of silence. I believe that having a completely reliable resource of your own in Slytherin may help you navigate certain situations more easily. Of course, how and when you choose to use her is entirely up to you."
Henry grasped the layered meanings at once: his grandmother's protection now reached into the magical world in this subtle form, while Dumbledore's tacit approval of the limited special treatment showed both respect for the royal family and a quiet gesture of benevolent assistance.
In Slytherin, where information itself was power, the worth of an absolutely reliable resource needed no explanation.
"I understand, Headmaster. Thank you for your arrangements, and I extend my sincerest gratitude." Henry offered a slight bow. "I will use this convenience prudently."
The only morning class was Herbology, held in a bright greenhouse on the castle's ground floor and shared with Ravenclaw.
Professor Sprout, a short, plump, and kindly witch, brought dried herb specimens, vivid illustrations of magical plants, and several slightly wriggling fungi sealed in transparent jars rather than soil and seeds.
Because it was the first lesson, she kept the content very basic, focusing mainly on explaining the subject of Herbology and its importance.
After lunch the sole afternoon class was History of Magic. When Henry and his Slytherin classmates entered the dusty classroom that smelled of old parchment, Professor Binns had already launched into his monotonous, lullaby-like narration about medieval European wizarding councils and the early prototypes of the International Statute of Secrecy.
Draco, almost from the moment he sat down, drifted into his own thoughts, idly twirling his brand-new quill; the long list of ancient wizards and lengthy treaty clauses clearly held no interest for him.
Within a minute Crabbe and Goyle began nodding off in perfect rhythm.
Henry forced himself to concentrate, quietly comparing the wizarding account of history with the Muggle historical records Sir Arnold had provided him.
(NOTE: Don't be too surprised by Dumbledore's actions. It is not a forced plot or anything like that. Henry represents the pinnacle of muggle power and him being the first royal to have magical talent is an extremely rare opportunity to bridge the gap between the magical and muggle world)
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