Chapter 484

Harry had never experienced Ge Xuan’s explorations and setbacks, so he lacked deep understanding of the Philosopher-King system and felt no intense endorsement or admiration for it. To Zhang Qiu’s proposal, he simply brushed it off by saying he was still young and didn’t want to engage with power too soon.

But he had another idea: “I think, since your idea is so shocking, you might as well state it openly and let the royal family know.”

“It’s very likely the royal family fears we’ll use their name to seize control of the country, so after Ron rejected Princess Sarah, they won’t send another prince to seek a marriage alliance with Hermione.” Harry considered two scenarios: “But if the royal family is genuinely tempted and wants to restore the monarchy along our lines, they’ll face resistance from all sides—and then the matter will have nothing to do with Hermione.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Zhang Qiu reluctantly agreed. “So shall we tell Princess Sarah tomorrow, right in front of her?”

“Wouldn’t that be too brazen?” Harry hesitated. “What if Harry and Ron receive her, while you and Ivy stay in the tea room, and I find a chance to let her overhear your conspiracy?”

“Fine, that sounds more subtle,” Zhang Qiu sighed and shrugged.

Assuming they’d settled on a strategy, the two prepared to return to the tea room and resume their earlier conversation—but unexpectedly, a tinkling laugh echoed through the small enclosed room.

“...This was almost the darkest moment of Draco’s life. Fortunately, Pansy was by his side, giving him the courage to keep fighting—even just to protect his girlfriend—but at this moment—” Ron vividly recounted the story, “Pansy panicked, because she didn’t truly love Draco!”

“I know, I know,” Ivy interrupted. “Anyone can see she’s desperate to marry into wealth—her makeup is so thick it looks like she’s painting her face.”

“Zhang Qiu says her makeup charm takes half an hour to recite like a textbook passage—is that true?”

“Worse than that. At least when reciting a textbook, you don’t have to stare at your own real face in the mirror.”

Ron burst into loud laughter, his voice piercing the thin door again.

Zhang Qiu pulled Harry away, smiling. “Now we can relax—the tea room has terrible soundproofing.”

Kind-hearted Harry spent three seconds silently apologizing to Pansy in his mind, then laughed happily with Zhang Qiu.

The evening slipped away. Harry never mentioned his idea to Ron and Ivy again, and they never came to find him.

Until the next morning, when Harry, yawning, came downstairs for breakfast, he noticed Ivy’s odd appearance: she was fully armed—not only had she dug out the expensive velvet robe custom-made from Dufan Couture, which she never dared wear, but she’d also applied a thick layer of foundation to her legs and wore a lucky blush and chameleon eyeshadow ordered from Beauxbatons—every last Galleon she owned had gone into these things.

“Brilliant idea,” Ron said. “Give the royal princess a little magical-world shock.”

“How’s this?” Ivy winked triumphantly; tiny stars began to shimmer at the corners of her eyes. “I know I can’t compete with the princess on fashion, so I’m relying on magic.”

Harry suddenly felt reluctant to carry out his original plan, especially after noticing Ron’s intrigued expression. He gently nudged Zhang Qiu’s foot under the table.

“Alright, I’ll tell you today’s plan,” Zhang Qiu said listlessly. “Harry and Ron receive the princess. You and Ivy find a place to discuss the restoration plan—and somehow make sure the princess overhears.”

Ron immediately looked displeased and began muttering about changing the plan. Harry could guess his thoughts: clearly, if a beautifully dressed, dazzling witch deliberately showed interest in him in front of a Muggle girl, it was the very scenario Ronald Weasley had dreamed of since childhood.

“How about we tweak the strategy slightly?” Harry proposed. “All three of us receive the princess. Then Zhang Qiu, you call me away. We’ll deliberately argue on the second floor to draw her over to eavesdrop.”

“I’m fine with that,” Zhang Qiu shrugged. The plan was settled.

At five past ten, the butler led two people into the parlor, startling Harry—he immediately realized he’d grown accustomed to judging visitors by the snap of Apparition, forgetting that a Muggle princess would arrive by car.

Yet the middle-aged man in a sharp suit did carry a certain royal bearing, and beside him, the young girl wore a loose shirt with sleeves rolled halfway up, jeans, and sneakers.

Harry rose first to greet them, while Ron and Ivy, dressed in elegant robes, stood frozen, unsure what to do.

“Hello, Princess,” Harry said, showing a modicum of politeness and respect—but no more. “May I ask who this gentleman is?”

“Hello, Sir Harry,” the middle-aged man replied, shaking his hand. He turned to Ron. “These two must be General Weasley and Miss Crowly, correct?”

Ron had no formal status in the Muggle world, but he had received an honorary military title for his magical prowess—so the address wasn’t inaccurate. Clearly, the aide’s subtle maneuvering had diminished Ivy’s standing.

Just as Ivy stood up, searching for a retort, the princess spoke: “Sir Charles, you and Sir Harry discuss the official matters. I’ll stay here.”

The decision was neither advantageous nor disadvantageous. Harry chose to trust Zhang Qiu’s improvisation—if he could keep this sharp-witted aide occupied, the other three against one should be easy.

They entered the adjacent sitting room. Harry asked the first question he cared about: “I’m curious, Sir Charles. As far as I know, since modernization, the royal family has rarely engaged in political marriages. What prompted this attempt at contact now?”

“To be frank, Sir Harry,” Charles replied, “we aren’t deliberately planning or seeking a political marriage. We’re merely hoping, with a touch of luck, to establish closer ties with the world’s most outstanding wizards.”

“Is that so? Then why did you let the princess dress so… casually?”

Charles gave a wry smile. “Regrettably, though many of our enlightened insiders wish to cultivate good relations with the magical world, the younger generation always has their own ideas. The princess may believe friendship, not marriage, is easier to achieve.”

Harry immediately recalled the history: former Minister of Magic Evangeline O’Pington had been a personal friend of Queen Victoria, and through that bond, the Queen received secret aid during the Crimean War.

“Yes, that’s an excellent precedent,” Charles agreed warmly after Harry finished.

But this was precisely what Harry wanted to say: “Yet Princess Sarah isn’t currently in the line of succession. How much real influence can this friendship have?”

Charles slowly clasped his hands, leaned forward, and studied Harry closely. He spoke softly: “Then suppose a prince currently in the line of succession comes forward—would the magical world have any outstanding young ladies willing to associate with him?”

Harry sensed a challenge and countered subtly: “Certainly. I know several beautiful young witches—Miss Greengrass, or the Patil sisters—who are eagerly awaiting worthy young men.”

“Perhaps we can hope for sparks to fly,” Charles conceded. “But we must also discuss another matter: the Royal Calia Academy. Whether or not marriage or friendship succeeds, Calia Academy is something we must—and must do immediately.”

Harry nodded in understanding.

“We’ve carefully deliberated on the location. Currently, we plan to affiliate the academy under Cambridge, publicly framing it as ‘Quantum Cross-Research’—integrating magical students into Cambridge’s enrollment system under the Department of Applied Mathematics and Theoretical Physics.” Charles presented a series of thorough, sincere proposals: “In addition to the magical-world degree, students will receive a Muggle-world degree in theoretical physics.”

“Moreover, magical students may, without revealing their identities, do anything a regular Cambridge student can: enroll in courses, join campus clubs, and so on. The royal family will fund scholarships to reward magical students who excel in Muggle coursework.”

Harry sensed something unusual: the royal family clearly intended a two-pronged approach—not only seeking to win over top-tier wizards through marriage or friendship, but also using the magical academy to attract mid-tier wizards. For wizards of Muggle origin or those deeply curious about the Muggle world, this university might become their gateway to the royal family—and their first step toward serving it.

Yet Harry saw no need—and no way—to oppose this idea. Perhaps the royal family had always maintained quiet ties with the magical world, or perhaps they’d seen the upheaval and now wished to become more active. But Zhang Qiu’s words the day before had already broadened his horizons: if the royal family sincerely sought to expand its influence and achieve something akin to restoration, the magical world would be its best partner—and its greatest beneficiary.