Chapter 308

When the Death Eater meeting finally began, Harry was unsurprised to see Draco and Pansy sitting tightly together, sharing one and a half seats along the long table.

"Two children?" Sirius feigned surprise.

"Yes, they possess the last Horcrux," Lucius said slowly, "though not the final one Black Lord created—rather, the last one we found."

"I merely mean the children happened upon a stroke of luck," Lucius turned to Harry with polite formality, "you remain the Black Lord's most trusted hidden reserve, Mr. Bakh."

"I don't care," Harry grunted back, then forced himself to look eager, "so should we prepare to ambush the Order, gather all the Horcruxes, and resurrect the Black Lord?"

"Don't rush," Lucius said, glancing at Bellatrix; Harry followed his gaze—the usually impulsive woman now sat rigidly in her chair, strikingly calm.

"These children did not come merely as themselves," Lucius said slowly, "they represent the students of Hogwarts. And the children, it seems, do not wish to see adults wage war."

"Children? Then you shouldn't meddle in adult affairs," Sirius scoffed with feigned disdain.

"If you refuse to negotiate, the Hogwarts students won't hand over the Horcruxes," Draco declared firmly.

"Some sacrifices are necessary," Harry thought the situation favored them, but to play Bakh, he remained cold and added a tone of anxiety and irritation.

"Mr. Bakh, please consider our position," Pansy spoke up, "we hope to reach a peaceful resolution with the Order through negotiation, avoiding unnecessary casualties."

"Negotiation? Do you really think they'll willingly hand over the Horcruxes?" Harry pretended to be annoyed, though his heart was already pounding.

According to his earlier assumptions, no matter how Lucius suppressed Bellatrix, it shouldn't have been Pansy speaking to "Bakh" in such an equal tone, seriously proposing negotiation.

Unless—peace talks were precisely what Lucius desired. In that case, who was truly manipulating whom over the diary?

"I believe we have grounds for negotiation," Lucius offered a thin smile. "The Ministry has leaked unverified rumors—Dumbledore… he created a Horcrux too."

Harry sat down, feigning shock—Bakh would naturally react this way upon learning Dumbledore might be revived. But for Harry himself, he had only just realized: the lie about Dumbledore's Horcrux didn't just curb Bellatrix's warlust—it also provided a path toward negotiation between Death Eaters and the Order.

"I don't think you'll reach an agreement," Sirius, playing Regulus, spoke up. "If the Order were willing to accept this outcome, they'd have handed over the ring long ago. After all, Horcrux resurrection doesn't require the painting—only its destruction."

Deeper still, the Order knew Dumbledore was upright, courageous, unafraid of death—he would never leave behind a Horcrux.

"The Order probably just learned of this," Lucius said, "or they always knew but refused to believe it—or dared not admit it to preserve Dumbledore's reputation."

Harry belatedly realized this lie had tarnished Dumbledore's honor. He glanced at Snape, who sat silently on the opposite side of the table; Harry had no idea what he was thinking.

"In any case, we have grounds to talk, and negotiation always needs a bridge. I believe the students make an excellent entry point," Antonin added from the end of the table, grinning with yellowed teeth.

"Lucius, are you really eager to elevate your heir to the spotlight? Unless you've got only a few years left to live?" Sirius sneered.

"Indeed, it's a bit unsightly," Snape remarked neutrally, "but negotiation is worth considering. We've been locked in covert conflict with the Order, but frankly, since neither side has gained ground, why not try talking?"

"But how?" Harry asked, puzzled. If Draco and Harry weren't the bridge, who could be?

"The Ministry," Snape raised an eyebrow. "I'll propose the Ministry send envoys—or political advisors—to both sides. We might resolve this more civilly."

"You're just looking out for yourself," Bellatrix drawled. "The Ministry's been showering you with favors lately, hasn't it?"

"But the Ministry is more reliable than a few students, isn't it?" Snape fixed Draco with a stare. "Students still have to worry about their OWLs."

When the topic turned to exams, Draco's spine, propped up by the diary, instantly slumped. He lowered his head guiltily, avoiding his professor's gaze.

"How ironic—I clearly remember not long ago you were using the Cruciatus Curse on Ministry officials," Bakh expressed appropriate disdain for the Death Eaters' incompetence, yet Harry himself genuinely found their contradictory behavior absurd.

"The Ministry isn't a unified whole—it has its own factions," Lucius said, tone flat yet oppressive. "That woman last time… she ended up on the wrong side."

Harry sensed Lucius was also applying pressure to Bakh. This insight sparked a new thought in him: perhaps in Lucius's eyes, Bakh and the closely allied Regulus were even more fanatical warhawks than Bellatrix. Was that why he dared not approach them privately?

All possibilities made sense—how could Harry claim to fully understand Lucius's mind? He could only play Bakh, let out a cold, discontented snort, and consider how to find a face-saving way to later agree to negotiation.

After all, negotiation was undoubtedly good for Harry. As long as war didn't break out, he had time to think—and negotiation offered ample room for maneuver, even if its foundation was a hollow lie.

The Death Eaters exchanged polite pleasantries; Harry found his opening and subtly signaled willingness to try negotiation. At that moment, he clearly noticed Lucius was openly and subtly courting Snape's favor—he was no longer the confident meeting host, but desperately sought Snape's support.

After the meeting, Harry still couldn't fathom why Snape had, overnight, gained the respect of nearly every Death Eater—and what his true intentions and plans might be.

The first question wasn't hard to answer: Snape held not only the diadem but also the painting. That is, though he alone couldn't fully resurrect Voldemort, if angered, he could still choose to resurrect Dumbledore.

To those seated at the table, Snape was the one least afraid of Dumbledore. If both Voldemort and Dumbledore were revived, it wasn't entirely bad for Snape. If Voldemort returned and saw Dumbledore present, he'd still need Snape for intelligence—but the others would face interrogation.

Everything seemed logical and plausible—but its foundation was the lie: "Dumbledore left Harry his Horcrux." This lie, orchestrated by Snape, likely served one major purpose: instantly elevating Snape's status among the Death Eaters.

Combining observations from the meeting, Harry easily concluded the lie had two other advantages for Snape: the Ministry began asserting its presence, and Snape was its most deeply connected ally—true in any organization. Simultaneously, the Death Eaters' desire for war was nearly crushed, a boon for the hidden strategist who knew the truth.

Considering Dumbledore's reputation, Harry suspected Snape's plan extended beyond eliminating the Death Eaters—he seemed intent on weakening the Order too. In his vision of the future, Snape likely favored the Ministry, the official institution representing procedural justice.

If Harry continued assuming Snape's plan was simply for the Ministry to halt the conflict, gradually turning the battle of good versus evil into partisan politics—replacing private violence with political debate—it would be simple, effective, even a decent outcome. But after the diary incident, Harry no longer dared assume others were this straightforward, nor trust such obvious, convenient developments.

Lucius, too, displayed astonishing foresight in the diary's scheme: his greatest gain was elevating Draco, who received considerable training within the plan's school-based portion. From the perspective of an ambitious man, Lucius seemed to have played a poor hand—but as a father, perhaps he and Snape each gained what they needed.

Bellatrix didn't come away empty-handed either: she retained her core support, and Draco and Pansy's relationship strengthened the escape route she'd secured for Delphi.

At this point, Harry realized Snape had precisely identified the weaknesses of two fellow Death Eaters: before they were ambitious men, they were parents.