Chapter 162: The Last Secret

Just twenty minutes passed, and Harry put on his clothes and went out to meet Zhang Qiu in May.

"You're brewing potion?" Harry entered the secret chamber to find Zhang Qiu in May sitting cross-legged before a cauldron, reading a book while watching the bubbling brew.

"Ah, Harry," Zhang Qiu looked up and smiled.

"What are you reading?" Harry noticed the book in her hand wasn't a textbook—it had a delicate portrait of a beautiful woman on the cover, with elegant cursive Chinese characters beside it.

"A novel," Zhang Qiu flipped the book face-down on the floor. "Something like a tyrannical CEO romance."

"So, what's it about?" Harry picked up the book, its pages filled with Chinese characters he didn't recognize.

"Basically, a company CEO—do you know what that means?" Seeing Harry nod slightly, Zhang Qiu continued, "He falls for a low-level employee, but she doesn't like him, so he starts using all kinds of tactics to force himself into her life."

"You know, he's the CEO, so she can't resist," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "Gradually, they start to understand each other and develop a little affection—until the CEO suddenly discovers she's fallen for another junior employee in the same office. Of course, that employee is quite capable and highly regarded by the board, so the CEO gets jealous."

"And then what?" Harry asked curiously. "Did he fire that employee?"

"No, he promoted him instead—to pretend he wasn't targeting him," Zhang Qiu went on. "But then the CEO started making life difficult for him—giving him impossible tasks, trying to drive him out. Unfortunately, the guy was too skilled and completed every task brilliantly, so the CEO had no choice but to promote him again."

"Sounds interesting," Harry nodded, now eager to see how the story unfolded—who would the girl choose?

"I haven't read further yet," Zhang Qiu spread her hands. "And my mistress hasn't sent me the next volume."

"Alright, I admit this story's fascinating—I'm actually looking forward to it," Harry remarked seriously. "And it feels real, like something that actually happened."

"Exactly," Zhang Qiu complained as she stirred the potion. "It's rare to find a decent romance novel—you have no idea what I used to read, stuff like 'The Spoiled Wife Runs Away with the Baby.' Can you imagine a woman hiding her identity for ten years to raise a child, then being dragged back into the wealthy family? Even crazier—the man forces her to pretend she's his cousin and calls her son his nephew so he can marry a Haomenxiaojie."

"These novels are disgusting—I can't even understand how the heroine puts up with it," Zhang Qiu waved her hand dramatically.

"I feel like this story sounds familiar," Harry said, barely holding back a laugh.

"Huh?" Zhang Qiu blinked. "You haven't read those domestic romance novels… oh right, Donald."

"Reality is often more fantastical than fiction," she sighed.

Soon, they forgot about the novel and gossip, as Zhang Qiu's uncle had sent them a new game—Harry loved "Bang Bang Simulator," where commanding naval battles felt incredibly romantic for a boy.

It wasn't until the end of June, when Harry returned to the secret chamber and saw Zhang Qiu adding Neville's second-year hair to the Polyjuice Potion, then quietly taking position along Hermione's usual path—only to find Donald already lying in wait—that the discussion about romance novels resurfaced in his mind.

Though Donald's actions defied logic, as the saying goes, in love and war all is fair—viewed through the lens of a romance novel, every inexplicable part of Donald's behavior suddenly made perfect sense.

"Superior wisdom is humanity's greatest treasure," Harry murmured the Inspiration Charm. Instantly, the entire sequence became utterly clear to him.

From the beginning, Donald had always been drawn to girls like Hermione. He wasn't caring for her out of nostalgia—he simply wanted to date Hermione.

So he'd pre-emptively taught Ron that knights mustn't be distracted by beauty, because divination suggested Ron and Hermione had deep ties—Ron might become his rival. When he noticed Hermione growing close to Neville, he first tried humiliating him in class, but failed. So Donald founded the Dueling Club and Avalon to divert Neville's attention. He even encouraged Hannah to pursue Neville boldly, so Neville wouldn't compete with him for Hermione.

Harry suddenly remembered: Donald had repeatedly invited Hermione to study in America, so she'd enter his territory—and Hermione had initially been tempted. But after the Hyperion incident, she seemed to develop feelings for Neville again—perhaps unrequited, since Neville never responded.

When Donald could no longer solve the problem with gentle, kind methods, he chose the most direct and lowest tactic: in Zhang Qiu's stunned gaze, Donald drank his self-made Polyjuice Potion, swapped into Gryffindor robes, and took on Neville's face.

Then he stepped around the corner and shouted: "Stupefy!"

After recovering from her shock, Zhang Qiu cast the Inspiration Charm too—and her face lit up with sudden understanding.

Harry also recalled last year's testimony from beneath the chamber: Donald claimed he'd invisibly followed someone resembling Neville carrying Hermione down into the chamber, while second-year Zhang Qiu had seen Donald carrying Hermione down into the chamber.

Perhaps because he wore Gryffindor robes, last year's Zhang Qiu had doubted her own eyes; Donald believed his lie was plausible, but he'd overlooked how changing height affected the potion's duration—he'd already lost the transformation when he burst into the bathroom.

When the final puzzle fell into place, Harry, during this summer between third and fourth year, finally dared to say he had fully unraveled the truth of second year.

"I suspected something back in second year," Zhang Qiu grumbled. "But I thought he was Dumbledore's white glove, so I didn't expose him in front of Ron. But now—it's serious. I'm writing a formal report. Copper deserves to rot."

Harry wiped his forehead. Now it was clear: the one reporting Donald wasn't second-year Zhang Qiu—it was third-year Zhang Qiu, who had more, stronger evidence (like Cassandra's past), and the Magical Congress would take this far more seriously.

Next, Zhang Qiu would leave school and continue improving her magic as planned, until time flowed again to the moment she originally set out.

Harry returned to the TARDIS, preparing to use the time machine to jump directly to the end of third year.

As he pulled the lever, the Doctor called out to him.

"Harry, I think after we return, we may never again find such a private place for secret conversation," he said solemnly—a look Harry had never seen before, not from Professor Doudou nor Sir Johnny. For the first time, he truly looked like a Doctor.

"Voldemort grows through failure—we cannot kill him outright," the Doctor said. "If he truly possesses some secret of immortality, and revives elsewhere, we may face a more cunning, more dangerous Voldemort."

"You're right. My idea is to use the Stunning Spell," Harry said. "Stacked multiple times, it should knock him out long enough to imprison him permanently, then we can slowly dismantle the Death Eaters."

"Good strategy—but that's the easiest part," the Doctor nodded. "The hard part is how to make Voldemort stand before you to duel."

Harry clenched his lips. The Doctor continued: "We'll use the Triwizard Tournament. You'll compete as Hogwarts' champion—and you must perform exceptionally well. Dumbledore will show extreme favoritism toward you, so Voldemort knows you're not just a gifted, powerful wizard—you're the next leader of the light. He must see you as a threat, one he must eliminate himself."

"The Triwizard Tournament will be held at Beauxbatons. Voldemort can easily breach it—we'll give him openings, weaknesses in defense, to tempt him into acting," the Doctor said gravely. "Details will adjust as needed, but remember one thing: once you're at Beauxbatons, follow Barty Crouch's orders—he's on our side."

"Oh right—I mean little Barty. He'll infiltrate Beauxbatons ahead of time as their English teacher," the Doctor added. "Old Barty is the official tournament overseer—he knows nothing of the plan."

"Alright," Harry said just as seriously. "I understand."

"We're here," the TARDIS fell silent. The Doctor nodded. "Remember—it's the end of third year. Call me Professor Doudou."

As he swiftly switched back to Professor Doudou's endearing, bumbling expression, Harry couldn't help smiling. Then, as he gently closed the door, the wardrobe returned to its original state.

"Harry, what were you looking for in the wardrobe?" A familiar yet strange voice rang out. Harry turned—Ron stood there, holding a giant ice cream, grinning at him.

A thousand words rushed to Harry's lips—he longed to tell Ron about the time travel, the truth of the chamber, Cui Ge's origins, and how contradictory Donald was.

But Harry stopped. Not everything can be told to everyone. Dumbledore himself was always silent, never revealing unsuitable truths to unsuitable people.

"Nothing," Harry whispered.

"Oh, by the way, what did you do this morning?" Ron split his ice cream in half and offered it to Harry. "Did Professor Doudou call you?"

"Yes," Harry said, noticing Neville had just returned—he paused, then said seriously: "Barty Crouch Jr. has devised a plan to capture the Dark Lord…"

Amid a cheerful, hopeful atmosphere, Harry's third year—long overdue for an end—finally and truly came to a close.