Chapter 483: Eastern Thinking

Harry believed the best approach was to have Ron and Hermione pretend to be a couple for a while—not long enough to be serious, just long enough to politely decline the royal marriage proposal. From his perspective, it was a reasonable and feasible suggestion.

But Ivy refused to give up the hard-won advantage she’d built; she found every excuse to oppose the proposal, and Ron’s quiet support made Harry realize a spark of romance had already begun to kindle between them.

After this argument, Harry abandoned his original idea—he realized he couldn’t sacrifice the happiness of those around him for the sake of the greater good, nor could he make decisions for others so lightly. With this mindset, he still borrowed a little of Hermione’s precious time, wanting to hear her thoughts.

“You mean we’re going to build a magical university?” Hermione’s smile held a touch of stunned disbelief as she heard the news, “Could it be because…”

“There’s a bit of that reason,” Harry said with a smile. “But it’s also timely—the Prime Minister and the Minister of Magic both expressed strong support.”

Hermione let out a long breath and said seriously, “Thank you, Harry.”

“But that’s not the only thing I need to tell you. We’re facing a problem now,” Harry’s smile vanished, replaced by seriousness. “The royal family is prepared to fund the school’s establishment, and in return, they want naming rights—which sounds reasonable. But they’ve added another request: one of the princesses wants to marry Ron.”

Hermione listened intently.

“Ron doesn’t want it, but based on my analysis, this marriage might be tied to the Over-Wizard power. I’m worried their next target will be you—after all, Oz is also a powerful Over-Wizard force, and you’re the only remaining single knight among them.”

Upon hearing the word “only remaining,” Hermione’s sharp mind quickly grasped Harry’s meaning and pieced together the situation: Harry and Zhang Qiu’s relationship was beyond royal interference; Cui Ge and Luna, if separated, would weaken; Neville and Draco were native pure-bloods of the magical world, impossible for the royals to influence. So, from recent rumors, if Ron and Ivy began dating, she would become the royal family’s easiest target—and their only viable handle on an Over-Wizard power.

“I still hold out a sliver of hope,” Hermione rubbed her temples in distress. “But I know full well—if the royals hit a wall with Ron, I’ll need to prepare in advance. There’s one thing I want to be honest about with you, Harry: I don’t want to marry into the royal family—not any prince. I want to enter politics and realize my ideals. Marriage to royalty would make that impossibly difficult.”

Harry caught her implication: if she merely wanted to exert influence as a government official, a royal member could do that too. Her hesitation proved she aimed higher.

“We’re willing to support you,” Harry said. “But I’m worried mishandling this might anger the royal family and jeopardize the magical academy.”

“You’re right—given my awkward position in the magical world,” Hermione gave a self-deprecating smile. “If you truly back me, they won’t see it as simple friendship. They’ll see it as another mass movement—a civil rights struggle between the magical and Muggle worlds. I don’t want to be the spark again.”

“What if we form an alliance of Over-Wizard powers…” Harry stroked his chin.

“Do you think Malfoy would sit with me?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “And without him, how would this alliance gain broad support in the magical world?”

Harry fell silent. He realized how dire the situation had become: Donald had once been Hermione’s best backer; now, though she’d escaped that scoundrel, she’d lost her sole pillar in the swirling tide of events.

After a brief hesitation, Hermione sighed. “Perhaps the best solution is for me to pretend to date the prince for a while, then reject him on grounds of incompatibility.”

Before Harry could respond, Hermione added, “Otherwise, given my status and background, what other option do I have?”

Indeed, this plan would achieve a polite refusal without risking royal coercion—they’d know full well that provoking Hermione would only backfire. Harry believed the royal family was still rational, or even if one prince wasn’t, the reigning queen was. Besides, no matter how strong Hermione’s potential, her current disheveled, unkempt appearance made it unlikely any “irrational” prince would even notice her.

With a pang of guilt toward Hermione, Harry accepted the proposal.

As soon as school ended on Friday, Harry and Ron Apparated back to Tang Dun—and this time, relying on his familiarity with the destination, he attempted to bring Ivy along with a side-along Apparition. He pulled it off perfectly, lifting his spirits considerably.

As they discussed how to handle Princess Sarah, Zhang Qiu returned, having spent the entire day wandering about, and enthusiastically joined the conversation.

But as they spoke, she suddenly began to grin strangely.

“You mean, if we turn down Princess Sarah, you’re afraid the royal family will send another prince to propose to Hermione?”

Harry frowned. “Yes. Hermione said, in all her distress, she might have to pretend to date the prince, then politely refuse him.”

“Refuse? Why refuse?” Zhang Qiu’s eyes widened. “My goodness, I always thought royal marriages only happened in over-the-top novels—I never imagined we’d actually encounter one in real life!”

“What?” Harry didn’t understand.

“Suppose—just suppose,” Zhang Qiu held up two fingers, “this prince marries Rosalind Parks, a brilliant Hogwarts graduate specializing in the Statute of Secrecy, the owner of Oz’s Eternal Bird, Harry Potter’s close friend Hermione Granger—do you know what that means?”

“He’d be committing bigamy by marrying so many at once.”

Zhang Qiu pinched Ivy’s arm sharply, silencing her, then said seriously, “He’d be marrying the entire magical world.”

“Yes, that’s exactly the royal family’s calculation—they’d be even happier if they replaced Hermione with Ron,” Harry said, growing impatient. “Maybe Lord Mountbatten was involved in some magical doctor’s program back then too. Is that supposed to be a good thing?” He’d expected some brilliant insight, but she’d merely stated something everyone knew.

“Whoever gains the Ministry’s support becomes Prime Minister,” Zhang Qiu said calmly. “Similarly, whichever prince gains the magical world’s backing becomes the true king.”

“First, our monarchy follows primogeniture—they won’t necessarily send the eldest prince to court Hermione. Second, our monarchy holds little real power; Hermione’s ambition is the Minister of Magic,” Harry said flatly. “So I think your idea isn’t feasible.”

“First, as magical folk living almost in the Middle Ages, we don’t have to accept constitutional monarchy—we can support the restoration of absolute monarchy and reclaim power,” Zhang Qiu leaned back confidently. “Back to the era of Elizabeth I and the Tudors.”

“As for succession, we needn’t rigidly follow primogeniture—he has the entire magical world behind him. We can adopt the succession by rivalry, or the Xuanwu Gate succession, or if the prince isn’t direct lineage, the Fengtian Jingnan succession. And if all else fails, as long as he’s royal, we can still use the method of inviting an external prince to the throne.”

After a string of incomprehensible terms, Harry finally caught the core of her meaning.

“After all, without strategic weapons, no Muggle can stand against a wizard. So this royal marriage proposal is precisely the magical world’s chance to take control of the country—legitimately.”

He swallowed hard, hesitating. “You’re not suggesting we stage a coup, are you?”

“Exactly,” Zhang Qiu said casually. “Without this prince, launching a revolution would take enormous effort—think of Grindelwald’s disastrous failure. But with this prince, it becomes a coup—effortless, and no righteous wizards will oppose it.”

Before Zhang Qiu could use more alarming rhetoric to irreparably corrupt Ivy’s youth, Harry firmly pulled her out of the tea room. As they left, he said dismissively, “I’ll speak to her alone. You two keep discussing tomorrow’s plans.”

“Hey, Harry, you don’t agree?” Zhang Qiu asked naturally.

Harry wiped sweat from his brow, attributing it all to cultural differences. “Why do you always come up with these coup ideas? And last time, you suddenly suggested invading neighboring countries? Is this encouraged by Tianchao culture?”

Zhang Qiu’s expression was a complex mix of pride in her historical knowledge and guilt over the immoral grin threatening to break through.

“Anyway, none of that matters,” she brushed it off. “The point is—you already know the concept of the Philosopher-King, and you understand it’s the ideal system. Perhaps you hope to assist a wise and great Prime Minister. But have you ever considered becoming the Philosopher-King yourself?”