Chapter 147: The Player

"Are we going to the next stop?" After returning to the TARDIS, Harry asked listlessly.

"No, Zhang Qiu's next stop is clearly stealing the note during the match—you've already seen her. The one after that is November? We'll go to her fifth stop." The Doctor compared the note Zhang Qiu had given him.

"Alright, this time I'll definitely ask her." Harry murmured, distracted.

With a screech of brakes, the TARDIS landed somewhere on November 1st. Harry wondered why the door was so large this time—only to discover, upon opening it, that it was Hagrid's closet.

From the voices, Zhang Qiu and Hagrid were outside the hut, their words carrying terms like "injured" and "killer."

Harry stepped out under his Invisibility Cloak, confirmed no one else was around, then removed it and appeared openly beside them, joining the conversation naturally.

"Oh, Harry, you're here too!" Hagrid exclaimed happily. "Look, this is just awful—Aragog hurt Buckbeak."

Surprised, Harry looked down at the massive creature on the ground. Buckbeak was in a pitiful state, large patches of his feathers burned away, his eyes dull and listless.

"Uh, you're saying Aragog did this?" Harry suddenly remembered—when their journey had just begun, they had witnessed Neville single-handedly fighting and defeating Buckbeak in the Forbidden Forest, and the date had been October 31st, i. ., yesterday.

"Who else could it be?" Hagrid growled. "That bastard dares hurt Buckbeak like this—let him fall into my hands!"

"Harry, don't you want to try healing him?" Zhang Qiu blinked at him.

"I could try, but I'm not sure how." Harry looked at Zhang Qiu—she was exactly the Zhang Qiu he knew: gentle, kind, showing concern even for a magical creature.

"Witch Hazel or Burn Healing Ointment—can you brew Witch Hazel?" Zhang Qiu asked.

Well-informed, always offering sound advice, always ready to help—this was the Zhang Qiu I knew, Harry thought.

"Hey, what are you daydreaming about?" Zhang Qiu waved a hand in front of his face. "If you can't brew it, you can just go ask Madam Pomfrey for some."

"Then, Hagrid," Harry tried not to let Hagrid sense his unease, "I'll go with Zhang Qiu to find Madam Pomfrey."

"That's wonderful," Hagrid replied, his attention entirely on the injured Buckbeak, unaware of Harry's mood.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Zhang Qiu asked cheerfully. "You look troubled."

"Yes, you've really… oh, maybe I should tell you first." Harry paused. "I didn't come directly from your previous stop—I've experienced many things since then, and… witnessed many things. I think I need to talk to you."

"Actually, I've wanted to talk to you since the Quidditch match, but so much happened afterward, I just forgot." He added.

"It's fine. What do you want to say?"

"I think you've changed. This semester's you isn't the Zhang Qiu I know." Harry spoke the thought that had lingered in his mind for a long time. "For divination, have you become a little ruthless?"

"Which thing?" Zhang Qiu seemed aware she'd done something wrong. "Honestly, I've already stopped caring."

"From the unicorn," Harry realized he shouldn't mention events that hadn't happened yet and quickly corrected himself. "I mean, if the pranks at school were still understandable, Sangster and Lei Yina truly made me feel—you know, that version of you felt alien to me."

"It's normal," Zhang Qiu admitted without hesitation. "You only know me as Harry's friend, but I also carry out my Master's mission and must represent the interests of Tianchao here. You might find it strange now, but you'll grow into it eventually."

"You too will carry Dumbledore's mission and represent Britain's interests in diplomatic storms. One day you'll gain power, piece together the full picture from subordinates' reports, then manipulate others' fates on the board, steering outcomes toward what you desire." Her tone was cold. "My Master is doing exactly this—and so is Dumbledore."

"Though, you and I will eventually hold power," her tone softened again. "But aren't we still friends? Perhaps, right to the end, we can remain the very best of friends."

"You're right. Maybe I'm just not used to it." Harry still didn't fully understand—he merely nodded along instinctively.

"When you arranged the Forbidden Forest battle last year, did you consider the centaurs' fate?" Zhang Qiu asked with a faint, knowing smile.

The question struck the core. Harry recalled his past self—when gathering classmates to plan, the centaurs were merely tools. Though they were sentient, flesh-and-blood beings, Harry had cared only for their combat strength; their lives were just numbers.

"That's different—they're not human," Harry muttered, then realized: unicorns aren't human either.

"Once you start using pieces, you'll inevitably reach this point," Zhang Qiu nodded. "I'm just a little faster than you."

"But Sangster is one thing—he's just a greedy, lecherous worm." Harry pressed urgently. "If Professor Dou didn't intervene, were you planning to force Cui Ge to transfer? Even after Professor Dou stepped in, you still tried to control Cui Ge's mother."

"Harry, before you champion their free will," Zhang Qiu turned to look at him, "I hope you'll consider this: I'm offering a 'better option'—or at least no worse. Cui Ge can receive the same quality education in Tianchao, the same chance to make friends, and his and his mother's after-school quality of life will improve dramatically."

"But the centaurs chose voluntarily to hunt the spiders," Harry argued.

"I'm not talking about centaurs," Zhang Qiu tilted her head, firing a string of questions. "Do you think you chose voluntarily to fight Voldemort? Do you think Neville chose voluntarily to be a supporting character? Do you think Snape chose voluntarily to become a double agent? Even—do you think Grindelwald chose voluntarily to be defeated?"

"You're not suggesting…" Harry stopped walking involuntarily. "Dumbledore?"

"Exactly. Do you remember what happened in your first year?"

Harry fell silent. He wouldn't forget his first heartfelt conversation with Neville, discussing all of Dumbledore's arrangements at school. The Chosen One Dumbledore nurtured wanted only to be a happy ordinary person, while the unnoticed supporting character sought only to prove himself.

In the end, their fates weren't bad—they all reconciled with destiny. But looking back, how much of those seemingly voluntary choices had been guided?

"I've read your entire fate," Zhang Qiu whispered, "and every secret dossier the Embroidered Uniform Guard uncovered. From Newt Scamander to Harry Potter, Dumbledore's mastery of strategy grows ever more refined."

"I understand. So you really have changed," Harry sighed. "You've matured—and I'm still reluctant to admit it."

"We're both good learners," Zhang Qiu stepped forward and took Harry's hand. "That saying you love—Dumbledore's quote—I've started to like it too."

"For the greater good." They locked eyes. Harry's held resignation; in Zhang Qiu's, he saw resolve.

"For me, my Master's divination is the best path to victory. According to fate, we can defeat Voldemort with a grand, happy ending—even Malfoy won't be hurt." She spoke softly. "I'm desperate to restore fate to its proper course—not just to collect rewards, but to ensure our future doesn't stray from the divination's outcome."

"So Cui Ge is the unstable factor you want to eliminate?" Harry now understood Zhang Qiu a little.

"Not just Cui Ge—there must be other things," Zhang Qiu's voice carried a trace of sorrow. "A larger vortex keeps twisting everyone's fate, but I don't know its source."

"Perhaps you could change your approach," Harry forced a smile and patted her shoulder. "Instead of straining to force fate back onto its original path, why not work together to ensure we leave no regrets in this new fate? Isn't that also possible?"

"Talking nicely means nothing—you can't defeat Voldemort just by trying hard," Zhang Qiu shook her head. "You're charging forward now as Dumbledore's pawn—but what then, when Dumbledore leaves? When you become the new player, can you guarantee you'll protect everyone while still winning?"

"Neville has already resolved to hold out until the last man," Zhang Qiu smiled bitterly. "But you still want to care for everyone's small wishes amid battle. Harry, a kind-hearted player cannot win."

"So what do you want?" Zhang Qiu fixed her gaze on Harry's eyes. "You want me and Tianchao to remain as gentle and kind as you remember? You want everyone to live freely?"

"No, I think I understand now," Harry's tone finally lightened. "We all have multiple identities. I just wasn't ready to accept the Zhang Qiu who is a player."

"But I'm glad I still have a good friend named Zhang Qiu—her gentleness and kindness have always inspired me."

"I'm glad I have a good friend named Harry," Zhang Qiu's expression returned to the one Harry knew well. "You always remind me where the bottom line of strategy lies—and that's what separates us from Voldemort. Come on, let's find Witch Hazel."