Chapter 482

The Prime Minister immediately showed a look of interest, while the Ministry officials remained sluggish and offered no response, except Snape, who fell into thoughtful silence, perplexed.

“An excellent suggestion, Sir Harry,” the Prime Minister clenched his fists and pressed them firmly against the conference table, “we shall become pioneers of the Magical Renaissance—a new Order of Merlin… or perhaps the Hark Order!”

“I haven’t inherited the title yet,” Harry said, glancing at the Prime Minister with a puzzled expression, muttering under his breath.

“You will soon—this proposal alone merits a life peerage,” the Prime Minister waved his fingers eagerly, eyes gleaming, “I’ll initiate your nomination immediately; our House of Lords already lacks talent in the magical field!”

Harry, who had been half-dazed until now, suddenly realized the truth upon hearing “House of Lords”—though he didn’t yet understand the connection between life peerage and the House, he knew the Prime Minister had long sought to leverage his fame to lure wizards into the Muggle world as his supporters.

After a brief hesitation, Harry feigned humility: “No, it’s just a suggestion—I think we should drop it. Mr. Prime Minister, I believe we should focus more on the detailed planning of the Magical University.”

“Wait a moment, both of you,” Arthur interrupted, “what exactly do you mean by ‘university’?”

Harry suddenly understood why the British magical world had no universities—they were completely detached from the Muggle society and had never even conceived of the idea.

“Simply put,” the Prime Minister explained patiently, “after graduating from Hogwarts, students can enter a new institution to study more advanced magical knowledge. Only the most outstanding students may attend university; most will then continue researching advanced magical theory, publish findings, and teach the next cohort of students—this cycle will continuously drive our magical progress.”

“So you mean university is like Hogwarts’ eighth year, with professors being top graduates? Then who will be the first professors?”

“Precisely, undergraduate university lasts four years—grades eight through twelve—but it’s an entirely separate school, unrelated to Hogwarts. As for the first professors, we’ll recruit the top experts currently in our magical community, likely including many Hogwarts instructors,” the Prime Minister said. “As for Hogwarts’ teaching duties, you can hire outstanding former graduates for that.”

“Yes, this will be the ultimate answer to our educational reform,” Snape said, snapping out of his daze, his usual lifeless tone now rippling with excitement. “For years I’ve tried to cram advanced knowledge into students’ skulls, but seven years simply aren’t enough to cover all the mysteries of Potions—and reckless teenagers have little desire to sit still and study. Since the magical world is relatively peaceful now, I’d much prefer to serve as Potions professor at the university.”

“You certainly have the qualifications, Mr. Snape,” the Minister offered a brief compliment, then continued dreaming aloud, “As for the university’s name, perhaps we could call it ‘Hark University’!”

Harry still remembered Hermione’s original dream of attending university; he seized the moment to suggest, “Mr. Prime Minister, the magical population may not support a full university. Why not place it under Oxford or Cambridge as a… Hark College?”

He admitted, as he uttered “Hark College,” he felt a pang of nausea.

“Hmm, that’s true,” the Prime Minister pondered briefly, then recognized another advantage: “If other wizards enter politics in the future, their education credentials will look far more impressive—graduating from secondary school sounds too humble.”

Arthur grinned as he watched them debate; if things continued this way, Harry and Ron might be the first students to enter university, Ginny and Ivy the second—he couldn’t help but feel delighted at the thought.

“...But Oxford or Cambridge may not be willing to fund it. We could convert some Galleons into pounds—how much money does the Ministry have left?”

Arthur’s grin vanished instantly.

“Our budget is tight, Mr. Prime Minister,” he swallowed hard. “We still need to fund Obsidian Magic research—you just said we must increase support for it to counter the Iron Curtain System.”

“Well, I did say that—but building the college is also to support their research!”

The Prime Minister and the Minister began bickering over the matter; clearly, Arthur preferred to channel Ministry funds directly into new magical research, while if money went to building a college, much of it would vanish into the name “Hark College.”

In the end, relying on home-field advantage, the Prime Minister walked away with not a single Galleon, politely escorted out. He still looked gloomy—his cabinet was unlikely to fund a magical university.

Harry began wondering who had funded Miskatonic—he suspected Donald might have been the one; he was truly rich and foolish, unlike Lucius, who only spent money when it benefited him.

Thinking this, Harry quietly decided: if no other option emerged, he’d try convincing Sirius to invest the profits from Wolf Canned Meat into building the college, as long as Hark helped establish ties with the university.

Hark moved astonishingly fast on another matter—he was desperate to use Harry to bring in magical politicians. Almost the same day he returned, he drafted a proposal nominating Harry Potter as a life peer to fill the House of Lords’ magical expertise gap, bypassed numerous standard approval procedures under the guise of the Statute of Secrecy, and delivered the proposal to the Queen’s desk before afternoon tea the next day.

Yet the House of Lords didn’t truly lack magical expertise; thus, the Royal Family misinterpreted the document.

On Thursday, Harry received an unusual letter from the old knight—he’d always used Muggle postal services to deliver letters to the pickup point outside Hogsmeade, but this time, he’d somehow acquired an owl.

“...The Royal Family intends to introduce you to Princess Sarah—ideally, to arrange a marriage. After I told them about Zhang Qiu, they shifted their focus to Ron, so perhaps you’ll need to bring Ron back this weekend. Moreover, after consulting the Cabinet, they plan to fund the Royal Kalia College in Cambridge for advanced magical education—they likely view this as a transaction. I suspect the success of any marriage alliance may determine whether you secure your life peerage and enter the House of Lords—how things develop is up to you.”

Harry sat on the sofa in the common room, reading the letter, while Ron sat across from him, absorbed in a newly published Muggle novel. He didn’t know how to tell Ron, so he removed his glasses, rubbed his nose bridge, and pondered the implications.

At that moment, a hand snatched the loose paper roll from his grip and unfolded it to read.

“You’re going into the House of Lords?” Ivy’s voice dropped an octave lower than usual. “Is that necessary?”

“I don’t want to go at all—it’s all Hark’s nonsense,” Harry grumbled. “But if the Royal Family supports the college, that’s what matters to me. Now it’s a matter of balance—how to respond and show our stance without joining the House of Lords, yet without ruining the college project…”

“Simple,” Ivy declared proudly. “Announce that you and Ron are engaged.”

Ron clearly heard, but he said nothing in protest—not even lifting his eyes from the book.

"No, I think it’s not that simple," Harry keenly sensed the issue, "I suspect they’re targeting the Over-Wizard power. I’m worried about Hermione—her parents are ordinary Muggle dentists; they won’t withstand Royal pressure."

“Regarding this,” Harry pressed his temples, forcing out his thought, “I’m considering having Ron and Hermione pretend to date—to present the magical community as a united front against Muggle Royal pressure.”

This time, Ron objected. He slammed the book shut, frowning. “Why bother? We can support Hermione as ordinary friends! Besides, that’s exactly how we show magical unity.”

From this sudden shift in attitude, Ivy smiled triumphantly, while Harry sighed and explained: “No—pretending to date is a subtle refusal. If Hermione bluntly refuses and we fiercely back her, we’ll anger the Royal Family. If they discover Hermione is taking A-Levels, they might retaliate by withdrawing funding from Kalia College—that’s not what I want.”

Ivy sat down beside him. Ron slipped in a bookmark. They both seemed ready to seriously discuss this.

“If we’re not going to push from our side,” Harry muttered, “the priority is to understand Princess Sarah’s situation and craft a targeted strategy. Also, learn about other eligible young men—so if they turn their eyes to Hermione again, we won’t be helpless.”

“What if we say Hermione likes girls?” Ivy suggested. “Didn’t that get reported during the Triwizard Tournament?”

“Then Princess Sarah can just use that excuse again,” Harry rolled his eyes, rejecting the foolish idea.