Chapter 299

After some time of observation, he had roughly formed an idea of what fate to give these Death Eaters.

Lucius is a selfish capitalist who seeks to use the Dark Lord for political speculation and gain power; thus, even disregarding his fragile friendship with Draco, purely from a practical standpoint, politically dismantling him and forcing him to abandon his ambitions and retire to his estate is the easiest and most suitable option.

Bellatrix is different—she is a fanatical terrorist who seeks to resurrect her fellow terrorist lover; if she fails to revive him, she will likely inherit his legacy and continue organizing terrorist attacks, so she must be imprisoned and rendered incapable of rising again.

And the cards in Harry's hand happen to form a complete logical chain: first, have Sirius establish, in Regulus's name, a new, relatively neutral faction among the Death Eaters; second, use Pansy's defection to undermine Lucius's reputation and force the smaller and medium families loyal to him to realign; next, leverage the Horcrux rumor to organize a strike team within the Order of the Phoenix, swiftly subduing and arresting Bellatrix and her followers while intimidating Lucius; finally, through pressure and strategic exposure from Sirius and Snape (perhaps even including Ho Fa), force Lucius to withdraw from the center of power and retire home.

At this point, Sirius can take over the last remaining Death Eaters who refuse to submit and begin gradually reforming them.

This may not be the best plan, but having any plan at all is better than drifting aimlessly. Harry suddenly felt life had regained purpose—even though he was still busy every day.

After two weeks of discussion, Harry and Sirius had roughly settled on a direction for this so-called "new neutral faction," and had prepared a highly effective recruitment tactic: paying them.

More precisely, Sirius intended to use the Gilmorian cannery to offer Death Eaters a series of well-paid employment positions, which would be extremely attractive to lower-class wizards; he also considered that some wizards craved superiority over Muggles, so he established different work requirements for wizards and Muggles.

"I mean, Regulus," Lucius said with some confusion during a meeting, "why did you specifically invite all the Death Eater families to listen today? What are you planning to say?"

"I want to talk to you about your views on Muggles," Sirius said confidently. "For a long time, we've amused ourselves by killing Muggles, but that's a terribly wasteful practice—I've recently been exploring a new method of torment."

"Let me demonstrate my merciless treatment of Muggles," he began. "First, I hire them to work in the cannery, performing tedious, repetitive labor—ha, that's how they fall into the trap."

"I require them to work exactly eight hours a day, with no lunch break counted. No breakfast or dinner provided; snacks and coffee must be bought at full price; many will die from exhaustion." Sirius stretched his neck with satisfaction. "Only those who survive this horrific enslavement will witness even crueler punishments."

"You pay overtime bonuses for at most ten days a month; team-building and psychological counseling are scheduled after work hours; every vacation requires compensatory time off; and performance bonuses are issued only once every three months." He sneered. "I'll even buy them health insurance—to squeeze every last drop of residual value from the Muggles."

"That sounds even more terrifying than killing them outright," Lucius replied, playing along. "Day after day wasting life on mechanical labor, with most of the fruits of their labor taken by wizards—I suppose you plan to threaten them with the Killing Curse."

"Precisely. On this foundation, I will hire large numbers of Death Eaters as workshop supervisors, technical managers, and other positions, granting them exclusive elite benefits, and appoint core members to form a Human Resources department to monitor and prevent any Muggle attempting to quit." Sirius declared firmly. "This is precisely why I invited you all here—I hope some of you who are tired of killing will join this cause and become my allies."

Harry, as Ho Fa, gave a slight nod of approval; he knew this move was highly targeted: offering Death Eaters executive salaries might not match Lucius's direct market share, but it far exceeded what Bellatrix or Voldemort offered.

Voldemort never paid his followers wages—his wage was your own life.

Indeed, Harry noticed several Death Eaters who had been sitting behind Bellatrix exchanging glances of interest; they whispered among themselves until one raised his hand and said, "May I introduce my cousin to work for you?"

"Of course, you can send his resume directly to this address…"

After the meeting, Sirius was busy for a while, but no obvious changes appeared. Most applicants were Death Eaters outside the Twenty-Eight Pure-Blood Families, and they weren't particularly loyal to Sirius. As for the Parkinson family—Harry's true concern—they remained firmly aligned with Bellatrix, utterly unmoved by the high pay.

Back home, when Ron asked, Harry half-explained, half-consoled himself: "As Zhang Qiu says, this is just a side move amid a hundred urgent tasks. When I'm maneuvering against Pansy, this might come in handy someday."

"I'm just curious—isn't this a violation of the Statute of Secrecy?" Ron had never heard of such a system.

"Probably not—as long as the wizards in the factory don't use magic in front of Muggles—the Statute doesn't forbid wizards from holding Muggle positions, does it?" Harry thought: if Yanayev could become a Muggle president, what was wrong with Sirius hiring someone as a workshop supervisor in a Muggle factory?

"Well, anyway, progress is progress. It's more interesting than spending all day in Dumbledore's Army waving wands," Ron sighed resignedly.

Life resumed its dull rhythm until after Halloween, when the first Quidditch match approached, forcing Harry to rally his focus again.

"Slytherin's all big brutes—Ginny's at a disadvantage," Angelina said worriedly. "Harry, you've been Malfoy's rival for years—you can handle him, right?"

"To be honest, you know I've trained far less than Ginny," Harry groaned, scratching his head. "But with Malfoy, I've faced him multiple times—I can still fight on experience."

"Is there another possibility?" Alicia suddenly said. "What if Slytherin doesn't field Malfoy?"

"What?"

"I saw them training a girl recently—looks like a Seeker," Alicia said uncertainly.

"Then maybe I should just ask Malfoy directly," Harry thought. From another angle, Draco himself had plenty on his plate—having a backup was perfectly normal.

But before Harry could meet Malfoy on Sunday, Malfoy sought him out during the Potions class break.

"Oh, Harry, we're about to play our first Quidditch match—you know that," Draco looked nervous. "But I've been thinking—about that Horcrux you mentioned. You said one's still out there, right?"

"Ah yes, exactly—one's missing. I suspect the Dark Lord made seven," Harry whispered.

"Yes, yes—look, I've been thinking about this. If we get that seventh Horcrux, we'll have the leverage to speak up loudly. I've been so absorbed in thought, I barely noticed the match is coming up," Draco said, chin resting on his hand, feigning deep contemplation.

"You're right—it's worth thinking about. I've been pondering it too," Harry blinked. "I've been running around with the Order, gained nothing, and missed several practices."

"Ah, what a coincidence—I've been the same," Draco sighed in relief. "I mean, we're both seasoned players—teams should give newcomers a chance, right?"

"I suspect you're trying to strike some kind of deal," Harry's lips twitched upward. "After all, we've faced off on the pitch so many times—we're both tired of it, right?"

Both men pressed their lips together, exchanging strange smiles, making meaningless gestures—then burst into laughter together.

"It's settled—we both sit out, let the substitutes play," Draco said. "You're putting in Ginny, right? I'll tell you—we're fielding Astoria Greengrass."

"Her? I didn't know she had that talent," Harry said, surprised—but he had full confidence in Ginny, so he didn't dwell on it.

Only when he told the team did they remind him of the detail he'd forgotten: "But isn't the Greengrass family weakened by a blood curse?"

"Maybe… oh, right—it was the Quibbler that said she was frail," Harry thought Malfoy wouldn't lie about this. "So maybe she's as strong as an ox?"

"I think this might be a trap," Angelina frowned. "If Malfoy ends up playing, Ginny, just say you're suddenly ill and switch in Harry."

Ginny looked displeased, but she agreed.

Yet on the day of the official match, Harry saw Draco in ordinary school robes, and at the end of the Slytherin team, a slender, frail-looking (but beautiful) girl, and like all the Gryffindor players, he was plunged into deep confusion.

"But what's he after?" Harry muttered. "I can't imagine this girl has any Seeker talent—she looks like she can't even grip the broomstick properly."

"This is odd—Astoria's body absolutely couldn't withstand high-intensity physical strain. Seekers need to endure massive acceleration…" Zhang Qiu frowned, flipping through her divination notebook.

"It's simple," Eve interjected. "Malfoy is after something beyond the pitch."