In the days that followed, Henry never heard the Gryffindor trio mention Professor Snape again.
They seemed to have abandoned that particular line of inquiry entirely, though they continued keeping a watchful eye on the fourth-floor corridor, alert to anyone attempting to breach its protections and reach the Philosopher's Stone.
During his free periods, Henry visited the library to study alongside his classmates. Draco clearly had little natural inclination for studying, yet seeing everyone around him bent over their books, he suppressed his restless energy and sat in the library making a credible impression of diligent work, though his eyes occasionally wandered toward the windows with undisguised longing.
The first Saturday after Easter arrived with the Hogwarts library unusually quiet. Henry had claimed a secluded corner, working through the documented twelve uses of dragon's blood.
Cho Chang sat across from him, reviewing her second-year revision notes in focused silence.
Then Ron's voice carried through the stacks.
"Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"
Henry looked up. Hagrid shuffled into view, conspicuously attempting to conceal something behind his back.
He wore his moleskin coat as always, looking entirely out of place among the shelves, particularly given that spring had already arrived, yet he remained bundled as though bracing against winter winds.
His gaze was evasive, scanning the space with obvious discomfort. Then he caught sight of Henry and immediately crossed toward him with the relieved expression of someone who had spotted a lifeline.
"Oh, Henry! You're here too, are you well?"
Henry smiled pleasantly. Hagrid had never possessed much talent for concealment, and the wisest course of action was to exchange brief pleasantries without pressing for details. "Not at all bad, Hagrid. It's good to see you."
Hagrid offered a few more hurried pleasantries, his eyes continuing to dart around the library, before fabricating an excuse and making a rather hasty exit.
The Gryffindor trio hadn't registered Henry's presence until Hagrid departed. Upon noticing him, the three immediately converged on his corner and, after receiving his permission, arranged themselves around the table.
"Your Highness, Miss Chang," Hermione began with a somewhat self-conscious smile. "I truly didn't expect to find you here as well. Studying for the end-of-year exams?"
"Yes," Henry said with a pleasant smile. "Final examinations are approaching, and poor marks will probably result in a rather uncomfortable conversation with my grandmother when I return home."
"Your grandmother?" Hermione's eyes widened. "You mean... Her Majesty the Queen?"
She leaned forward across the table with barely contained excitement, her thick revision book forgotten entirely. "Could you tell me, only if you'd like to, of course, what is Her Majesty like in her daily life? Is she genuinely as composed as she appears in public? What does her daily schedule actually involve? Does she—"
"Hermione," Ron interrupted with a long-suffering expression, "you've asked three questions without pausing for breath. Four, actually, if I hadn't cut in."
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I simply... well, I've studied a great deal about the British monarchy. I've researched the history of every monarch from Queen Victoria onward. Her Majesty is someone I genuinely admire, she pledged a lifetime of service to the country when she was only twenty-one, and now at sixty-six she has never once wavered from that commitment."
Henry couldn't help but smile. Hermione wasn't exaggerating at all.
Even before her coronation, the young Princess Elizabeth had served as a driver and mechanic in the Auxiliary Territorial Service during the Second World War. She had always been that sort of person, serious, dedicated, and entirely genuine.
"What would you like to know?" Henry asked.
"Everything!" Hermione said immediately, before catching herself. She drew a breath, visibly exercising restraint. "For a start, what does Her Majesty typically have for breakfast? Does she genuinely review those red government boxes every day? And what are her conversations with the Prime Minister actually like?"
Ron coughed pointedly.
Hermione glanced at him, then at Henry, and quickly rose to offer a small curtsy by way of apology.
She then imposed discipline on her curiosity and asked her questions one at a time, and Henry answered each one with patience and good humor.
Only when Hermione finally sat back, thoroughly satisfied, did Ron venture his own question.
"Your Highness," he said, his directness thoroughly characteristic, "given your family background, do you actually need to bother studying?"
"What do you think?" Henry responded with a smile.
Ron scratched the back of his head. "Honestly? If my family were that powerful, I think I'd just... not bother. Let things sort themselves out."
Hermione turned on him with obvious disapproval. "Ron! How can you possibly think that way?"
"What's wrong with it? I'm being honest," Ron replied defensively. "Harry, back me up here."
Harry remained diplomatically silent, though his expression suggested he found Ron's reasoning rather difficult to argue with.
"Studying matters because it develops your judgment and character," Henry said with an easy smile. "There's an old saying: 'Jade that is never carved will never become something of value; a person who never applies themselves will never understand what it means to live well.' Even with considerable resources at your disposal, poor judgment and a lack of principle will eventually make those resources meaningless."
"Your Highness has read the Book of Rites?" Cho Chang looked up with genuine surprise and interest.
"Only selected passages," Henry replied modestly.
Hermione's expression lit up with the delight of someone who had finally encountered a kindred spirit in a school she sometimes found academically disappointing.
"Actually," Harry said quickly, seizing the opportunity before Hermione could resume her questioning, "what was Hagrid hiding behind his back? He clearly didn't want any of us to see it."
"I'll check which books he was looking at," Ron said, rising from his chair. He returned shortly carrying an armful of volumes, which he deposited on the table with a somewhat dramatic thud.
"He was researching dragons," Ron whispered, glancing around to ensure no one nearby could overhear. "Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland, Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit, The Dragon Keeper's Guide."
"He's always wanted a dragon," Harry said, nodding. "He told me that the very first time I met him."
Henry raised an eyebrow, quietly turning this information over in his mind. He recalled that in the sequence of events he knew, Hagrid had indeed acquired a dragon during Harry's first year, though the creature hadn't remained at Hogwarts for long.
Cho Chang looked up from her notes with renewed interest. "A dragon? Do dragons exist here in Britain as well? How do they compare to Chinese dragons? Are they larger?"
Harry brightened considerably at this development. He had been searching for a natural opening to speak with her for some time, and dragons had conveniently provided one. "Chinese dragons look completely different from Western ones, don't they? I've read that the symbolism is different too."
Cho Chang smiled and rested her chin lightly on her hand. "Yes, the differences are quite significant actually. Chinese dragons are associated with water, wisdom, and good fortune, they don't typically have wings and are rarely depicted as dangerous."
"If I recall correctly," Hermione interjected thoughtfully, looking toward Henry, "the Wales flag features a dragon, doesn't it, Your Highness?"
"It does," Henry replied. "The red dragon is the royal symbol of Wales, it's been part of Wales identity for centuries."
Cho Chang's expression brightened with recognition. "How interesting, in China, the dragon holds a similarly royal significance. It was the symbol of the emperor himself for thousands of years..."
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