Chapter 343

On the first Friday after Easter, Donald Fontroy, the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor once beloved by children, returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and delivered an unusual public lecture as a guest professor.

"You may wonder where I've been these past months," Donald said confidently. "To be honest, I re-entered the race."

"As your former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I feel I can use this experience to teach you about defense… Sometimes, we must defend not just against specific dark spells, but against far more."

"For instance, earlier this year, someone claimed I engaged in despicable judicial collusion to seize a banana plantation in Cochinchina," Donald put on an innocent expression. "I didn't even know where Cochinchina was, let alone anything about banana plantations."

"So someone falsely accused you?" Arnold suddenly raised his hand to ask.

"Yes, and it didn't stop there. Soon after, a wizard from Montana claimed I used to steal from him during school, and others spread rumors that I got drunk in bars until late at night," Donald continued methodically. "Someone claimed I extorted them; someone accused me of bribery; mud was thrown at me in buckets—and worst of all, someone accused me of rape."

"The person behind these false accusations is truly vile—he even went so far as to hire an old, ugly woman—who could possibly be interested in such a pig!" Donald feigned outrage. "Then, during one of my speeches, two toddlers stumbled onto the stage, hugged me, and called me Dad. Isn't that absurd?"

Harry doubted whether Donald had truly participated in the election, or whether the political infighting within the Magical Congress was truly this disgraceful. In his view, the most important part of Donald's story was the final section—he had preemptively set up a defensive maneuver: if Cassandra suddenly revealed the truth, he could counter by claiming it was slander and political persecution.

"So, children, if you're interested in undertaking great work that involves entrenched interest groups, you must face immense resistance—and that resistance will often target individuals personally," Donald chose the perfect moment for the perfect topic; the children immediately thought of Hermione, who had just "suffered unfair treatment."

"I'm pleased to see you're involved in a civil rights movement, speaking proudly for all Muggle-borns," Donald began offering advice with apparent fairness. "But this also means certain old-line nobles who firmly believe in blood purity will oppose your movement and launch attacks against your most outstanding and brilliant members."

"But what if we don't have—or can't find—evidence?" a student raised his hand to ask.

Fabricate evidence, Harry thought silently. Albus and Donald had both used this trick.

"Then we must… trust in judicial fairness," Donald deflected, speaking only correct but ultimately useless platitudes, while Harry naturally began to drift off.

After slightly restrained praise of the Ministry of Magic, Donald shifted the topic to modern dueling philosophy—perfectly suited to Ron and Neville's tastes, and Harry agreed: mastering some combat skills was indeed useful.

For example, magic isn't allowed in hallways, but nothing forbids fists—and for Madam Pomfrey, the latter causes lighter injuries.

In the end, Donald concluded his lecture fairly satisfactorily. His topic was "Comprehensive Defense for Adult Wizards," ostensibly covering self-protection against social threats and physical danger, but in Harry's eyes, it was essentially a private lesson tailored for Hermione and Ron.

On Saturday night, Ron returned to the dormitory beaming. Seeing his blackened eyes and swollen face, Harry guessed why he'd skipped Quidditch practice: Donald was staying at Hogwarts for the weekend, and Ron, still trusting and fond of him, wouldn't miss the chance to seek advice.

"You might not know, Harry," Ron grinned. "I can now hold my own against Donald."

"You mean with just fists, no wand?" Harry studied him. "It's not very useful, but it's progress."

"Yeah, he says it's because of my Round Table Knight bloodline," Ron sat heavily on the edge of his bed. "The more leadership and charisma you show, the stronger I become. Isn't that amazing?"

"Huh?"

"The Ministry's been praising you nonstop, and that's secretly helped me," Ron fully believed the theory. "The closer your master is to a wise king, the stronger the Round Table Knights become."

"Of course, he also said my talent hasn't fully manifested because I haven't yet made up my mind to stay away from the opposite sex," Ron scratched his head. "But as Zhang Qiu said, after what happened with Elena, I think I've made progress in this area too."

Honestly, Harry considered the Round Table Knight bloodline theory utter nonsense—but he couldn't disprove it. He preferred to believe Ron's physique improved from regular exercise and high-protein diet; indeed, Ron was noticeably stronger than his Muggle peers. But if he admitted magic played a role, how could he explain how that magic worked?

"Did Donald say anything to you about Elena?" Harry asked.

"Sort of. He said Elena also affects the bloodline's power and told me to keep my distance," Ron pretended indifference. "He said we could just be friends—but it doesn't matter anyway; I don't even have her as a friend anymore."

Harry was suspicious. He couldn't tell if this was Donald playing a psychological game. The next day, they met Elena herself, still spitting venom. Ron shot back without hesitation, and Harry quickly pulled him away.

In the library, they asked Zhang Qiu again to analyze the situation.

"Although Donald hasn't approached me, I'm confident he's been deceived by Elena," Zhang Qiu said proudly. "And Elena and Ron's progress is currently in a saved state."

"Saved?"

"Yes. If further development is needed, someone will appear to wash Ron's hair—perhaps Hermione, or Donald might find another pawn. She'll tell Ron that girls' hearts are strange, that her apparent hostility is actually a subtle emotion called 'tsundere,' and that if Ron shows interest, Elena can instantly return to normal and resume their relationship."

"There's such a thing?" Harry was stunned.

"There are stranger things… Think again. Donald likely believed you and Hermione celebrated Valentine's Day, but he also noticed Elena's subtle intentions," Zhang Qiu said. "Elena's misjudgment explains her behavior well—but it also reveals she doesn't like Ron."

"That's why he advised Ron to give up on Elena too," Harry frowned, scratching his chin. "But if Ron refuses to reconcile with Elena, even if this 'tsundere' excuse exists, they still can't resume anything. Next year, if Ron really dances with Hermione, what will Donald do then?"

"Could it be that Donald has decided to respect Elena's choice?" Zhang Qiu blinked. "In matters outside Hermione, he's not actually that bad."

"Elena's choice—what would that be?" Harry still didn't understand. "If she doesn't like Ron, won't Donald suspect she likes Hermione? How would she explain that to Donald?"

"Elena must never reveal she likes Hermione. She should pretend to like a boy," Zhang Qiu suddenly slapped her thigh. "Yes—she can pretend to like Harry."

An unexplained chill swept over Harry's entire body.

"First and foremost, Elena must remain at Hogwarts. If Donald doesn't respect her wishes, she must continue her mission to seduce Ron; if he does respect her, she'll want to stay and pursue some boy," Zhang Qiu analyzed. "So, which boy is both outstanding and completely unlike Ron?"

"And then blame it all on me?" Harry complained.

"There's another odd point: Donald hasn't approached me, nor arranged any kissing opportunities for us," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "Excluding the possibility he fears offending Xuan Jun, the most likely explanation is that he's done something wrong to me."

Several days later, on a bright afternoon, Donald left without a word. His visit seemed merely to have been a public lecture and a friendly chat with the children. But in Harry's eyes, this was merely the facade he showed to Hermione; unseen by her, the traitorous Elena had barely escaped her first test.