You can now access up to chapter 115 on p@treon: patreon.com/palevolt100
+++++++
On Monday morning, as the class ended and students filed out into the corridor, Henry fell into step beside Hannah, who was walking with her head down and her books clutched to her chest.
"Hannah, I wanted to ask you something," he said, in the easy tone of someone making conversation between lessons. "I've been hoping to get to know some Ravenclaw students, particularly anyone with an interest in Muggle studies or the history of magic across different cultures. I seem to remember you mentioning a friend in Ravenclaw?"
Hannah looked up, a slight flush coming into her face at being addressed. "Oh, yes! I do—and actually—" Her eyes brightened as the right person came to mind. "Cho Chang! She's a second-year Ravenclaw, and I met her in Diagon Alley when we were buying textbooks over the summer. She grew up in England but her family is Chinese, so she has this extraordinary perspective on the differences between Eastern and Western magical traditions. She talks to me about it sometimes—I don't always follow the deeper parts, but what she says is genuinely fascinating. She even speaks Chinese. If Your Highness is interested in a truly cross-cultural point of view—"
She stopped herself, her voice dropping slightly. "Though of course, if it seems like too much trouble—"
"Not at all," Henry said, with real interest. "Miss Chang sounds exactly the kind of person I'd like to meet. A cross-cultural perspective is often what allows you to see past the assumptions you don't even know you're making. If she would be willing, I'd very much like to invite you all to tea tomorrow afternoon."
Hannah almost bounced. She restrained herself admirably, settling for a vigorous nod instead. "She would love it, she always says wizards understand far too little about non-European magical traditions. I'll find her now! Tomorrow at four o'clock, the same classroom as usual?"
"The same classroom," Henry confirmed. "I'll ask Lucy to prepare something that reflects both traditions. Perhaps you could ask Miss Chang whether there's anything specific she'd suggest?"
"That's a wonderful idea!" Hannah's eyes lit up. "She sometimes brings Chinese pastries for us to try. She'll know exactly what would work well together. I'm going to find her right now!"
Henry watched her go with a quiet sense of things falling into place.
He did not need deep friendships with every House—what mattered was having genuine connections, demonstrating consistent openness, and establishing at least one meaningful relationship in each circle.
The architecture of influence did not require close bonds at every point; it required the right ones in the right places.
On Tuesday afternoon, Henry arrived at the familiar empty classroom on the second floor to find four people already inside.
Justin was showing Hannah and Susan his new quill pen with characteristic enthusiasm. Beside Hannah sat a Ravenclaw girl Henry had not met before.
She had long, dark hair that fell straight to her waist, with a few strands resting softly at her cheeks.
Her features were delicate, with a distinctly Eastern quality to them. She wore a neatly pressed Ravenclaw robe and was quietly studying the arrangement on the table, where Lucy had put considerable thought into the day's preparation: alongside the traditional English three-tiered pastry stand sat several pieces of blue-and-white porcelain, a pot of jasmine tea, and a plate of Chinese pastries arranged with the same care as the English ones.
"Good afternoon," Henry said as he came in, his gaze moving briefly and naturally across the room.
Justin rose immediately, and Hannah and Susan greeted him with warm smiles. The Ravenclaw girl stood and gave a curtsy that was precise and composed.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness. I am Cho Chang, second-year Ravenclaw—and a friend of Hannah's."
Her accent carried the particular quality of someone who had grown up speaking two languages and moved between them without effort.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Chang." Henry returned her greeting with an easy smile—and then, to the visible surprise of Hannah, Susan, and Justin, continued without pausing in clear, unhurried Mandarin: "I am Henry Wales. It's very nice to meet you."
Cho Chang's dark eyes went wide. She stared at him for a moment, her lips slightly parted, and forgot entirely to respond.
Hannah, Susan, and Justin looked at one another. Whatever Henry had just said, it was unmistakably not English—nor any European language any of them recognised.
"You speak Chinese?" Cho Chang recovered, replying in Mandarin, her voice carrying genuine disbelief. "Your pronunciation is very precise—it almost sounds like a Beijing accent."
Henry switched back to English and turned to the other three with a smile. "Miss Chang and I were greeting one another in Chinese. I've studied some Mandarin." Then, quietly in Chinese, he said to Cho Chang, "My teacher was from Beijing. Please do sit down. We can speak Chinese between ourselves from time to time, but we should make sure to include our other friends."
A genuine, unguarded smile spread across Cho Chang's face, the particular warmth that comes from unexpectedly hearing one's own language somewhere far from home.
"Of course, Your Highness. Your Chinese is genuinely remarkable. I was completely unprepared for it."
Everyone settled at the table, and Lucy moved quietly between them, pouring tea.
Two varieties had been prepared: the usual English black tea, and a pot of jasmine tea, accompanied by the blue-and-white porcelain cups.
"This is jasmine tea," Henry said to Hannah and the others, then turned briefly to Cho Chang in Chinese: "I thought you might appreciate something that feels a little like home."
Cho Chang lifted her cup, brought it close, and breathed in the scent. Something softened in her expression for a moment.
"Thank you, Your Highness. This reminds me of my grandmother's tea room in Chinatown."
She took a composed sip, then addressed the table in English. "This is a floral tea from the East—jasmine blossoms are blended with the tea leaves during the drying process. The result is lighter than black tea, but the scent lingers."
Justin tried his curiously, and his face opened into surprise. "It really is different! It's lighter, but there's something in it—it stays with you."
"Eastern tea tradition focuses on the quality and character of the leaves themselves," Henry said, guiding the conversation naturally. "English afternoon tea is more concerned with the ritual—the pairing with food, the social dimension. Two entirely different sets of wisdom arrived at through entirely different paths."
Cho Chang nodded, her slightly accented English measured and thoughtful. "In China, tea is connected to philosophy, to literature, and to meditation practices that go back many centuries.
Different teas are suited to different seasons, different times of day, different states of mind. It is a more interior form of enjoyment, less about occasion and more about attention."
"Rather like Ravenclaw's approach to knowledge?" Susan suggested quietly. "More concerned with depth of understanding than with the outward form?"
Cho Chang smiled, and it was a warm one. "That's a good way of putting it. Ravenclaw does encourage following something all the way through, rather than gathering impressions of the surface."