Chapter 352

After lunch, Harry went to the headmaster's office again. He understood that Snape had personally seen Bondarev off because he feared Bondarev would wander the school and do something improper. But the conversation that morning had still lacked a conclusion.

"Professor, I found that spell in Grindelwald's notebook," Harry held up the notebook, "and it doesn't seem particularly dark."

"Merely controlling corpses, not imprisoning souls?" Snape studied the spell's description carefully, then set the diary aside. "That's one thing. Another is that we cannot let the Soviets dictate our actions entirely."

Harry nodded seriously.

"I'm beginning to understand why you lied about leaving that painting behind. Foreign wizards have repeatedly reached out to us—something Dumbledore never allowed. But if we want Bondarev to believe Dumbledore can be resurrected, we cannot refuse the chance to destroy Voldemort completely; yet if he discovers Dumbledore is alive and we're evasive, he'll inevitably suspect Voldemort might not be resurrectable either."

"Dumbledore's still alive?" Harry blinked, then remembered the painting. "We let him see the headmaster's portrait!"

"He specifically asked to see it. He said he wanted to tour the headmaster's office. If I'd refused, that would've been concealment—a sign of weakness. I had no choice but to display openly that Dumbledore didn't die, and act with absolute confidence, to deceive him… or at least buy time."

"Buy time?"

"Not for long. This past year, Ge Xuan hasn't been idle—he seems to be developing a new spell, which will draw Yanayev's attention again." Snape glanced at Harry. "You'll have enough time to grow stronger."

Harry felt the pressure, but he reluctantly agreed.

"We still have to kill Nagini and steal the cup. It's also a signal—we've accepted the Soviet proposal. Two factions among the Death Eaters are now cooperating with the White House and the Kremlin respectively. It's not terrible—it maintains a fragile balance, a game rule everyone can accept." Snape's fingers rested on the diary. "The question is: how do we win within this rule?"

"Will the Death Eaters know our plan?" Harry asked.

"It depends on how you design the plan. If you use the Order, the Death Eaters will definitely find out." Snape said. "Even if there's truly not a single spy among the growing, increasingly diverse ranks, the Death Eaters themselves will closely monitor the Order's movements."

"And once they sense any major action from the Order, they'll prioritize securing the venue—then we'll have no chance to strike Nagini."

"Without full-scale war, we can't mobilize forces," Harry analyzed. "We can only act secretly, assigning people the Death Eaters don't care about to carry out the mission."

"And the cup…" Snape hesitated. "I don't really want to obtain the cup. But Bondarev has arranged a goblin for us—and that goblin will report our actions."

"For example, sending Mundungus to steal the cup would be professionally appropriate. But once the Soviets find out, they'll wonder: is this man really serious about stealing the cup?" Harry quickly grasped the concern. "But if we send someone powerful—say, Kingsley—and he actually steals the cup, it becomes a hot potato. Unless we find someone who can act, who's skilled at deception, who can fool the goblin—and who understands…"

A name instantly surfaced in Harry's mind: Tonks. He believed her, as a Metamorphmagus, must also be an excellent actress.

"I'll handle this," Snape said, glancing out the window. "You need more time to study and practice Occlumency."

Seeing Harry's unspoken hesitation, he added: "I'll contact the Ministry of Magic. They have their own internal factional struggles. We need more information, a fuller understanding of the situation, to formulate this plan."

In a way, this was good news for Harry himself. Exams were fast approaching, and he truly needed time to review. Under the headmaster's lead, Slughorn no longer constantly invited him to the Slug Club.

Harry devoted most of his spare time and energy to reviewing his studies. Arnold even privately suggested he could do his homework directly in the Minister's office—the Minister would raise no objection, as he was certain the current Minister couldn't understand fifth-year assignments.

Only by mid-May did something disrupt this routine: the paternity test results finally arrived.

Harry submitted the report truthfully. The results weren't surprising to him, but the Muggle expert in charge was astonished. The report confirmed Harry and Delphini were related and likely half-siblings, though it didn't rule out them being cousins.

Of course, this was because the Muggle expert didn't know about the resurrection ritual—that's why William demanded a copy: he began trying to educate the Death Eaters on genetics. The result, as Clara had predicted, was meaningless—proof of nothing.

After Harry's lineage dispute stalled, the Death Eaters temporarily shelved the matter. Perhaps they'd all begun placing their hopes on the election: Bellatrix and Lucius believed Nagini would act as they wished, while Harry and Snape planned to kill Nagini before the election.

"I feel this life is oppressive," Harry said during one study session. "This sense of hidden currents beneath a calm surface—it's unbearable."

"A calm surface?" Ron stared at him. "Did you forget we're playing Ravenclaw in our final Quidditch match?"

"No suspense," Harry said, bored. "Anyone knows we've already secured the House Cup. Are you really going to lose to Ravenclaw—a team like that? And by four hundred points?"

"I mean," Ron said confidently at breakfast on match day, "even if you don't think it's an exciting game, at least we'll have another reason to throw a party."

Harry and Ivy walked up to the higher stands and noticed Hermione and Elina already seated among a cluster of Gryffindors in the second row. Though Harry wanted to find another spot, Ivy pulled him toward them.

"Ha." Neville, Seamus, and Dean caught up. "Where's Zhang Qiu?"

"She's not in the mood for the match," Harry shrugged. "She's helping Hagrid settle Grubbly-Plank."

"We're about to do something big," Neville said regretfully. "Why didn't Zhang Qiu come herself?"

"What?" Harry looked startled. "No one told me…"

"At our Dumbledore's Army meetings—" Ivy suddenly laughed. "Ah, maybe only you and Ron didn't know about this."

Curious and half-skeptical, Harry sat with them among the Gryffindors. Under bright, clear sunlight, the players entered the field—the match was about to begin.

"Match begins, Davis gets the Quaffle," Lee Jordan's voice rang from the commentary stand. "He dodges Johnson, spins past Spinet… he's charging straight for the goal!"

All eyes focused on the opening shot. After a wobbling attempt, Ron easily extended his arm and blocked the Quaffle—Gryffindor's stands erupted in cheers.

Immediately after Ron passed the Quaffle, it returned to Ravenclaw's possession in a flash. Harry noticed Fred and Angelina flanking Ginny on either side—they were clearly aiming for a quick win, even at the cost of a few points.

Soon, Bradley regained control and charged toward the goal. After a feint, he hurled the Quaffle hard toward the right hoop—Ron had been waiting there all along.

Gryffindor's stands erupted again, and this cheer lasted longer—so long that it began to fade when Ron effortlessly blocked another shot from Chambers.

Suddenly, Harry saw most of the students in red robes leap to their feet. A strange chant rose: "Weasley is our king, Weasley is our king, never lets the ball in the ring, Weasley is our king…"

Even across half the pitch, Harry could see Ron's ears turning red.

What made it feel perfectly timed was that just as Ron dove to block Davis's next attack, and the chant began to weaken, another clear voice rang out from the other side of the pitch: "I've got the Snitch!"

After just half an hour, a large crowd in red and gold hoisted two people high and slowly moved toward the castle. They were so enthusiastic they shoved Harry to the back.

"Clean and decisive," Luna caught up to him from behind. "Congratulations."

"So Zhang Qiu's experiment succeeded," Cui Ge said sourly.