Chapter 298: Time Management

Harry returned to his dorm an hour later than usual, and Ron and Neville were staring at him with that strange look again.

"Where did you go?" Neville asked, his eyes gleaming.

"I was with Zhang Qiu…" Harry noticed Neville's eyes brighten instantly, "we discussed the domestic situation, then did our homework together."

"And then?" Neville asked, disappointed but unwilling to give up.

"Then I came back," Harry shrugged.

Ron couldn't help laughing, while Neville looked confused. "Didn't you talk about your feelings with Malfoy? Pan Xi must've told you, right?"

"Yes, I know, but first the domestic situation is complicated, and second, we have a lot of homework," Harry smiled. "We had a good time, but it was too late today, so I thought—next time."

"You owe me a sickle," Ron said, clapping Neville on the shoulder.

Neville reluctantly pulled a handful of coins from his robe pocket and grumbled, "This won't work, Harry. It really won't."

For the rest of the week, they placed two more bets on Harry's late returns, and Ron always won—because he knew Harry wouldn't consider kissing until the newspapers stopped reporting news and teachers stopped assigning homework; Zhang Qiu wouldn't initiate a kiss, and she genuinely valued both news and homework.

By Friday, as Ron eagerly looked forward to the weekend, Harry felt uneasy—his weekend meant three meetings and one event, and if luck ran bad, they'd fill both days completely—he couldn't even guarantee time to finish his homework, let alone attend Quidditch practice.

Worse still, this Order of the Phoenix meeting dragged on endlessly, electing a string of useless positions, and no real progress was made on any actual matter. When several young members reported that the Horcrux wasn't here or there, and Doge encouraged them by saying, "At least you've eliminated wrong answers," Harry gloomily thought: what if Lestrange moved the Horcrux back to a place the Order had already checked? That would be blindness right under the lamp.

The election took so long that by the time Harry returned to school, he barely had time to eat before rushing off to the Dumbledore's Army meeting. Caiester patiently taught the students the Disarming Charm, which might still be new to Harry, but to those fourth-years who'd spent years fighting in the Dueling Club, it was just basic training.

As the Dumbledore's Army session neared its end, he saw Zhang Qiu walking toward him. Harry was sure she'd intended to say something, but seeing the exhaustion on his face, all her words condensed into one: "Get some rest."

The next day, Harry squeezed in some homework before heading to Malfoy Manor to sit through a meeting with a group of loathsome Death Eaters—especially with White House agent William and Ministry emissary Umbridge present.

Umbridge seemed much more subdued, merely smiling falsely and sitting in silence. William tried to incite the Death Eaters to launch another attack on Dumbledore's reputation, but Lucius refused; immediately, Sirius and Harry voiced their support for Lucius's refusal, and the matter was dropped.

It was at least a small relief, Harry thought. Though the Order hadn't made real progress, neither had the Death Eaters. At least the Order failed due to method, ability, or luck—while the Death Eaters failed because of their attitude: they didn't care about the Horcruxes at all, only their own selfish interests. Goyle should've been the most concerned about the Horcruxes, and Harry thought he ought to scold them—but he feared actually waking them up, so he merely pretended to sulk.

The only moment over the weekend that let Harry relax slightly was the three hours on Sunday night at Torchwood. Though Draco and Pan Xi weren't true friends, at least being with them was easy—no pressure at all.

When Harry opened his eyes and realized Monday had arrived, he felt confused: why did it feel like he hadn't rested at all, and yet new tasks were already piling up?

Despite dozing through History of Magic, Harry still felt drained. Even his usually foolproof Potions class suffered from a careless mistake that ruined his potion.

"Potter, stay after class," Snape said, looking down at him. The professor, who should've been busier than Harry, looked utterly alert, showing no sign of fatigue.

"Alright," Harry said, feeling guilty—it was their first private conversation since the term began.

"I've noticed your mental state is poor," Snape said, tidying his lesson notes. "Too busy, hmm?"

"Yes," Harry admitted, slightly embarrassed.

"You need time management," Snape said. "You don't have to attend every single meeting of Goyle's, do you?"

Harry's heart seized—he stared at Snape in alarm, his mind racing: Did only Snape know, or did other Death Eaters know too?

"For any competent wizard politician, Legilimency and Occlumency are essential skills," Snape said slowly. "If you can't master such advanced magic, then remember: you must remain calm at all times."

Harry's sweat stopped flowing. He quickly realized only Snape had noticed—because only Snape had contact with both Harry Potter and Goyle Bach.

"Your hostility toward William is one of your weaknesses," Snape whispered. "Fortunately, only I've noticed. I doubt Lucius or Bellatrix would think of this—they'd only suspect Goyle and Yanayev are connected."

"Going too often creates more weaknesses—that's one thing; your energy can't keep up, your mind is fatigued—that's another," Snape continued. "And the Order? A bunch of ancient relics dragging along a crowd of fools. You don't seriously expect them to accomplish anything, do you? Then you don't need to attend every meeting."

"You're right, sir," Harry agreed. He'd begun to lose faith in the Order's capabilities.

"If you want to be a leader, it's vital to know which tasks can be delegated and which absolutely require you," Snape half-closed his eyes. "If you're just trying to survive this year, next year will be even busier. Do you understand?"

Perhaps Snape himself had only just realized this, Harry thought with a hint of malice. But that didn't stop him from humbly admitting: Snape was right.

"By the way, I'd like to ask about that Senior Investigator…" Since he was here, Harry decided to bring it up.

"I think you'd better hurry," Snape dodged the topic. "Or you'll miss lunch."

Harry bowed and left, heading toward the Great Hall. The fact that Snape avoided the subject confirmed one thing: the Investigator idea was his.

Of course, Snape's advice on time management was also crucial—Harry agreed. During the summer, both the Death Eaters and the Order held meetings, but Harry hadn't attended every single one. And looking back, since summer, neither group had made any real progress. If the Death Eaters failed because of selfish motives, Harry suspected the Order's situation was more like Torchwood: pick a theme as an excuse, then gather to chat—if the conversation was deep enough, it made them feel impressive. That's all.

If he dropped both meetings, only Dumbledore's Army and Torchwood remained. But Torchwood was already scheming to take over Dumbledore's Army, and Harry believed Dumbledore's Army was not only possibly useless but possibly unreliable: if he needed a student combat unit to fight Death Eaters, he'd rather recruit from the Lionheart Society.

Since Dumbledore's Army was essentially Harry's compromise to Torchwood, he realized he didn't need to attend every Saturday night meeting. But the extra time he gained wasn't easy to fill—could he really let the kids see their leader sitting in the library doing homework during a Dumbledore's Army session?

The answer was clear: he could now go on secret dates with Zhang Qiu—or have fun in Gilneas.

Once he released the pressure he'd imposed on himself, Harry joyfully realized he could simply enjoy school life like any ordinary student: do homework, play Quidditch, go out on weekends—how carefree and pleasant.

But Harry couldn't help wondering: according to Snape, what tasks were truly "only I can do"?

More importantly, one major reason Harry could now enjoy peaceful school life was that both the Death Eaters and the Order were far weaker than he'd imagined. These two seemingly powerful organizations were shockingly inefficient. After the initial, tense, impulsive phase, they now had almost no desire to fight—just pretending, pretending, while engaging in petty, back-and-forth scheming over Horcruxes. No, it wasn't even scheming—it was more like two amateurs bickering.

Under these circumstances, Harry wondered: should he let go of his worries and return to calm life—or should he begin actively planning a decisive strategy to eliminate the Death Eaters once and for all?