Chapter 314

"This is a massive structure," Harry said, flipping through the files as Sirius explained, "Donald claims it was a temporary measure born of necessity." Inside was a diagram of a giant sphere, labeled as twenty-four meters tall—nearly eighty feet.

"They haven't yet mastered magic storage technology," Sirius continued, "so each activation requires six hundred wizards to simultaneously channel energy."

"Do we even have six hundred people?" Harry asked.

"We do," Lupin explained the number, "Statistics show Gilmour can muster about eight hundred participants for the ritual, so we settled on six hundred."

"So the principle of the Focusing Rainbow," Harry sat up straight, "is to gather vast amounts of magic through a ritual and concentrate it into a single attack?"

"Precisely," Sirius remarked, "As the name suggests, Donald actually picked a fitting term—rare for him."

"Even if Voldemort truly returns," Lupin seemed excited, "as long as we can pinpoint his location, we can project a torrent of magical energy via spatial magic—crush him to ash in an instant! With such power, we can rest easy!"

"If the Focusing Rainbow is this powerful, why hasn't the Ministry of Magic—oh, spatial technology," Harry suddenly realized the Ministry wasn't entirely useless, "The TARDIS contains the true pinnacle of understanding from the Department of Mysteries—this projection capability is the core of nuclear deterrence."

"We still need time to build this weapon," Sirius warned, "I'd estimate at least a year."

"Oh right, and we still have to finish the defensive installations first," Lupin grew more sober. "And if we're building a complex weapon, people's enthusiasm won't match what they had for constructing defenses."

"What's Donald's price?" Harry suddenly remembered, "He can't just give it to you for free?"

"It's practically free," Sirius shook his head. "He said it's a private transaction—he only provides the blueprints and design. All he asks for is a promise."

"What kind of promise?" Harry went alert.

"He said we must not," Sirius paused, "interfere in his private life—in any capacity, under any guise."

Harry bit his lip. The two sides were now playing their cards openly. Donald had handed over the strategic weapon's blueprints so readily—and precisely demanded non-interference with his personal life—clearly indicating he already suspected his true intentions had been partially exposed to the Order.

This was a transparent deal: for Harry, he gained the final piece of Gilmour's rise, but paid with Hermione's right to know the truth—a heavy burden on his conscience. Even though Zhang Qiu had analyzed that Donald might treat Hermione well… even so, Harry could not accept it.

Yet in the eyes of the Order, even Sirius and Lupin, who knew nothing of the truth, this cost was nearly free. If Harry revealed the truth, he couldn't be sure these adults would support him—but doing so would directly sabotage Donald's plan.

What if Donald grew angry? He possessed the Focusing Rainbow technology; even without precise energy projection, he could vent his rage by destroying buildings. Worst case: if he attacked Hogwarts—even if he warned them first and let teachers and students flee—the ancient castle would still be reduced to rubble. Even if Donald had some affection for Hogwarts and refrained from attacking it directly, once hostilities began, he could bombard Tang Dun, the Order's headquarters, or the Gilmour Presidential Palace—Harry broke into cold sweat, unable to dwell on it.

The Focusing Rainbow blueprints were both a gesture of sincere intent and a silent threat.

Harry raised no objection. He politely expressed approval, then left the room to join the bonfire party on the square. Donald was vigorously shaking a bottle of champagne while children bet on how far the cork would fly. Amid the lively scene, Ron sat with Elina, both their faces flushed. Harry couldn't help but think: Donald had skill—but at least he seemed to avoid outright dishonorable tactics.

After making his decision, Harry felt genuine guilt, and his mood at the party visibly soured. Zhang Qiu had seemed ready to bring up another topic, but once she understood why he was downcast, she shifted to comforting him.

"We often say, the wise adapt to circumstances," she spoke slightly slurred, likely from the champagne, "In this situation, there's no room for unnecessary kindness."

"I know. I just feel awful."

"We also say, short pain is better than long suffering. The same applies to a guilty conscience—making the decision today is better than dragging it out and enduring constant torment." She pointed toward Ron. "Elina plans to spend Christmas at Ron's house, and Donald is arranging her as an exchange student to attend Hogwarts."

"Exchange student?" Harry blinked. "Is that necessary?"

"You only see the second layer, and you assume he's on the first—but he's on the fifth," Zhang Qiu counted on her fingers. "Donald sending Elina here first ensures Ron and her relationship can develop smoothly, right?"

"Yes, you call that the first layer?"

"The second layer: Ron and Elina showing affection at Hogwarts further isolates Hermione emotionally," Zhang Qiu held up her second finger. "Besides, you just promised not to interfere."

"The third layer: where will Elina live?" Zhang Qiu held up her third finger. "Last year, Lavender transferred out—Hermione's dorm room just became vacant. Think about it."

Harry had to admit: this move was brilliant. Not only would it steal the only boy Hermione truly liked, but Elina, as Hermione's friend, would influence her—and precisely because she was a friend, Hermione would abandon Ron out of loyalty. And added to that: Elina, like Hermione, came from the Muggle world and despised the magical world's corrupt traditions. She would actively lead Hermione into the net Donald had already spread.

"The fourth layer: Donald arranging an exchange student to enter Hogwarts at this exact moment—isn't that a signal he's about to step onto the board himself? If this student receives even slight favoritism, doesn't that become a signal of Donald's alliance with Snape?" Zhang Qiu held up her fourth finger. "This isn't a joke."

"The fifth layer—we never would've guessed it. I only noticed it after casting an inspiration charm." She tapped her forehead. "The Ilvermorny student organization—Donald named it 'Fate.' That alone means it's more than just a student group. If Fate remains merely an organization led by Elina, Donald can seize control of it while she's away. If he's already the mastermind behind it, then Fate now has a legitimate reason to interfere in British internal affairs."

"I feel like I seriously underestimated Donald before," Harry breathed deeply.

"Relax. Don't be so tense," Zhang Qiu patted his shoulder. "Donald's strategy seems brilliant—but that's because he controls vast resources and has multiple paths to achieve his goals."

"As they say, even a clever woman can't cook without rice—but with rice, even a clumsy one can manage…" Zhang Qiu belched, clearly not fully sober. "I mean, don't fear Donald has some earth-shattering wisdom—he simply holds more cards than most."

"The true master is the one who maintains control—or even finds a solution—when he has no cards left," Zhang Qiu's thoughts drifted. "But we rarely hear of such cases. Even Yanayev isn't a true hero—he relied heavily on the magical world's help to restore order…"

Harry picked up a bottle of pumpkin juice and drank. Above, stars scattered across the sky—a clear night again. He and Zhang Qiu continued chatting, idly discussing international affairs and political theory… He hesitated.

"Should I find a chance to kiss her?" Harry asked himself. "Or do I even have such thoughts?"

Undeniably, when he imagined how he might do it, a flicker of anticipation stirred within him—he genuinely longed to kiss her, or even just fantasizing about it brought him joy.

Yet equally undeniable: Harry felt a lingering unease. He feared their positions might diverge, and he felt guilty for hiding the truth from Zhang Qiu. And this guilt was unavoidable—he didn't know whether she had truly lost her memories during the Zhengyi Jiangsheng Weilu ritual, or if she was merely pretending amnesia to help maintain the painting's deterrence lie.

Harry sighed deeply. In the end, they parted as ordinary friends before Christmas.