Chapter 233

"Do you think Donald's uncle, the media tycoon, would publish such news without verification?" Zhang Qiu mused. "He may have reviewed it—or even altered it deliberately so Hermione would instantly recognize it as Neville's leak."

"Is this really right?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Always coldly strategizing, analyzing every situation—but shouldn't I just be friends with Hermione?"

"Ron too—I never thought before: is he my friend, or just my knight?"

"He's happy to be your knight, so you've always been friends," Zhang Qiu comforted. "It's nothing."

"Have I sunk too deep into the role of the player?" Harry looked up at Zhang Qiu. "I only think about who can handle what part, never as a friend, caring for them."

"A player's friends can only be players," Zhang Qiu said coldly. "Hermione just hasn't grown up yet."

"But—" Harry fell silent. He realized that since ending time travel, his relationship with Neville had improved greatly, and his romance with Zhang Qiu had naturally begun.

He could even understand Malfoy, easily feigning camaraderie with him, command Eve as if she were an extension of his arm, chat easily with the Doctor, match wits with Renata—but he could no longer speak to Hermione as he once had.

How long had it been since he last spoke to Dean or Seamus? How long since he'd gone to Hagrid for tea? Harry realized belatedly: What had he thought of Cedric? How had he interacted with Elena or Donna—only seeking them when useful, ignoring them entirely otherwise? Did anyone know all my secrets and thoughts? No—I kept something back from everyone, even Zhang Qiu—she didn't know about Barty Jr.

"I'm starting to feel more and more like Dumbledore," Harry whispered.

"But that's good," Zhang Qiu patted his shoulder. "You need to become like Dumbledore."

Harry had no reply. Indeed, without Voldemort and his ambitions, Harry could have remained a pure child, befriending everyone. But since things were as they were—and he wasn't stupid—he didn't want to dump all the pressure onto Dumbledore and live as a carefree teenager.

Dumbledore was already exhausted, Harry thought—he had to manipulate Snape to play against Voldemort, and he alone had to decipher Voldemort's thoughts to plan the final details. All Harry needed to do was win the first two rounds as beautifully as possible—and he had already done that.

Harry's mindset relaxed again. He took Zhang Qiu's hand. "Let's go. Don't keep Sirius waiting."

"Harry, I must congratulate you," Sirius said at once, pulling him into a tight hug. "You won brilliantly—but did you really use that Celestial spell?"

"No, Donald helped me," Harry said without hesitation in front of his godfather.

"Him again?" Sirius frowned. "I don't understand what Bai Gong is doing. Why are these Muggle affairs dragging us wizards into them? Rodolphus is already enough of a headache."

"What? Rodolphus?" Harry remembered the name—the husband of Bellatrix, more precisely, the husband of the Dark Lord's mistress. The man who should have been heavily trusted, yet now had vanished without a trace.

"Yes, I only recently discovered Rodolphus isn't dead," Sirius stroked his chin. "Antonin hasn't come to me in ages either. They must have gathered a force elsewhere, keeping it hidden from me—they may already suspect me."

"Are you alright?" Harry tensed instantly.

"I'm fine. My standing in the party is high—they dare not touch me now. Two-thirds of these Death Eaters answer only to me personally," Sirius said proudly. "I've assigned them to oversee Gilneas's foreign trade, live honestly, and gradually change their views."

"Oh?" Harry was curious—how had Sirius taught them?

"Before, they tortured Muggles to feel superior as wizards," Sirius smiled. "Now, they wear new clothes and buy new brooms to feel superior as the wealthy."

"That's a positive process," Harry commented. "If Death Eaters envy those who earn money through hard work, they'll want to work too."

"But this trend isn't good," Zhang Qiu warned. "People who rally around you for money will betray you for money too."

"It doesn't matter—I have ties to Gilneas. That's my secret to wealth, unique and irreplaceable," Sirius said dismissively. "Besides, I'm recruiting werewolves into my core team. Werewolves have nowhere else to go—they're utterly loyal."

Harry thought Sirius was becoming overconfident, but he didn't feel comfortable advising him. Perhaps he could write Lupin a letter later.

"Back to Rodolphus—I'm investigating him and his brother Rabastan. I was told they died in the Great Escape, but Johnny English told me he pulled the full escape roster—they must have escaped safely."

"But when I started investigating, I couldn't find a single trace of them anywhere in the British Isles," Sirius said grimly. "They're carrying out a deeply buried secret mission—one that erased all traces of themselves since the Great Escape. These two are the Dark Lord's true trump card. But how could two isolated Dark wizards manage this? I suspect they received help from foreign powers."

"So you investigated Donald and Bai Gong, suspecting this ties into Cold War maneuvering?" Harry naturally followed Sirius's logic.

"Yes. I'm certain they're carefully, subtly placing their pieces in the wizarding world—but I have no idea what their goal is. I can't see how wizards and Muggles are connected at all. Why should they care so much about Britain's wizarding war?" Sirius's tone held deep confusion and a touch of helplessness.

"Donald's involvement with Harry is just his personal whim," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "He's just a pure troublemaker. If you try to study him, you'll only get more confused."

"Try a different approach," Harry suggested. "If you can't find Rodolphus himself, think about who else he might be recruiting."

"I've checked everywhere. I've backed a vampire named Denathius. I found Hagrid's brother among the giants. Even the goblins—I questioned them too." Sirius suddenly chuckled. "They've converted the abandoned Vault 76 into a shelter, planning to hide in it when war breaks out."

"That's strange—he can't be lobbying house-elves," Harry scratched his head.

"Enough worrying about this. I'll keep investigating," Sirius patted Harry's head. "Don't forget—I'm here mainly to celebrate your success."

"Oh right, Mr. Black," Zhang Qiu suddenly remembered. "Please take this."

Sirius glanced curiously at the paper parcel she handed him—it contained dried roasted chicken legs and sliced French bread.

"What is this?"

"It's essential to divination. Eat a chicken leg—it'll help me greatly," Zhang Qiu pleaded, clasping her hands together.

"Alright. I was going to ask if you wanted to visit Gilneas this weekend?" Sirius bit into a piece of chicken. "The conspiracies can wait. You need to relax, Harry."

"Invite more people. Lupin says he can throw you a ball," Sirius suddenly stopped chewing. "When were these chicken legs made?"

"Yesterday at noon," Zhang Qiu shrugged.

"I'd love to go—but no more balls… oh, wait—a ball is perfect," Harry snapped his fingers. "Ron and Hermione can finally make up for their regret."

"If it's to make up for regret, then I won't hold back," Zhang Qiu commanded. "Follow my arrangements. And I'll need to get some Polyjuice Potion."

Before lunch, Sirius had a stomachache, while Harry and Zhang Qiu contacted everyone to gather those willing to attend the reenactment ball in Gilneas.

Ron calmed Hermione well—her mood stabilized, and when she accepted Ron's invitation, she even smiled brightly. Fleur and Cedric were eager to join again and were curious about the Land of Werewolves, so they readily agreed. Eve initially refused, saying she had no new clothes and found balls unexciting—but Zhang Qiu persuaded her, and she planned to bring a pile of Polyjuice Potion.

Donna, of course, wasn't going to miss this fun opportunity. Leveraging the fact that no one in Gilneas knew her, she and Zhang Qiu sneaked into Barty Jr.'s office and plucked a few hairs from his coat.

That night, in the ballroom of Gilneas's presidential palace, the werewolves who had just received their first wages each wore elegant formal attire, dancing gracefully to music, celebrating their peaceful, tranquil lives.

Harry and Eve let Zhang Qiu manipulate them. After she danced with Cedric, she drank the potion and transformed into Parvati's appearance, then danced with Harry again. Eve drank Ron's potion; before dancing with her, Zhang Qiu transformed herself into Padma. Harry didn't object—Parvati and Padma were twins; one potion was enough.

Donna smirked, planning to turn Harry into Barty Jr. Harry, indifferent, went to the restroom and sipped the Polyjuice Potion slowly—it tasted sweet and spicy. He thought, perhaps Barty Jr. isn't so bad.

But after the transformation, he realized something was wrong: in the mirror stood a girl with prominent features and long golden hair.