Chapter 493

For Snape, whose life was rigid and devoid of charm, the best holiday activity he could imagine was a ball—something that already bordered on torture for Harry.

On the afternoon before Halloween, as his roommates kept trying on formal wear and adjusting their costumes, Ron casually yanked out the old bedsheet he was about to wash and cut two holes for the eyes.

“No way, mate,” Harry chuckled. “You’re really going to the ball like that?”

“I’ve danced enough already, brother—I’m tired,” he sat on the edge of the bed, hugging the sheet. “Sure, I could put on armor and a pumpkin head—Eve suggested that—but I don’t see the point. We’re not the hosts of this ball.”

“True—Prince Kate is dressing as King Arthur, so one armored figure is enough,” Harry said with understanding. “But I’m not optimistic about them. Honestly, I still haven’t decided what to wear myself.”

“I think you should take Zhang Qiu’s advice,” Ron said with a smirk. “You might be sick of it, but girls rarely get tired of balls. What if she insists on wearing some dazzling Eastern gown—oh, I can’t even imagine.”

Fortunately, Zhang Qiu also deeply understood this ball wasn’t meant for them. She gave Harry an idea that thrilled him: “You can just wear your pajamas and slippers—I’m planning to wear mine too. In Eastern tales, that’s a terrifying monster called ‘Landlord.’”

So, while everyone else buzzed into the Great Hall, where the band’s skeletons and ghosts stirred, professors and students laughed loudly, sipping wine and wandering about, and even house-elves beamed with joy, Harry and Zhang Qiu slipped quietly into the hall in their pajamas.

Harry spotted the main guests quickly—three or four royal family members were chatting with Draco, who had dressed as a vampire, a simple and convenient costume. Yet his innate aristocratic arrogance now drew the princes and princesses’ attention perfectly.

Driven by a desire to avoid seeing them, Harry and Zhang Qiu pushed deeper into the corner, where several Hufflepuff students crowded around the food table, stuffing their plates.

After avoiding them, Harry finally found a secluded table and they sat down to rest. Naturally, Harry brought up Ron’s costume—he was dressed as a zombie emitting ghostly flames, a novel concept, and Harry still had no idea how Ron had pulled together an outfit in the final hour.

“Oh, this might sound a bit awkward,” Zhang Qiu chuckled. “Ginny originally planned to wear a phoenix-themed gown. She spent a lot of effort designing and making it. But when solving the fire problem, there was a small mistake—Fred’s headpiece didn’t produce red flames—it produced blue ones.”

“So Ron’s costume is—”

“Exactly. She modified the blue-flame headpiece slightly and gave it to Ron,” Zhang Qiu said. “After all, Eve still wanted to attend the ball, so she hoped Ron’s outfit would be fun.”

“Of course, Ginny eventually solved the flame issue,” Zhang Qiu said, resting her chin as she gazed at the nearby dance floor, slightly wistful. “That once naive little sister has grown into a girl as beautiful as fire.”

They discussed a while longer about which boy Ginny might end up with, but the question was hard to answer. Dean Thomas, once considered the most likely candidate, had chickened out—he didn’t dare ask her, instead slipping away quietly.

“That won’t do—I need to encourage him,” Harry said, rising with a mix of frustration and determination. Zhang Qiu followed, eager to watch the spectacle.

But before they reached Dean, another girl beat them to it, pulling him onto the dance floor. This annoyed Harry, and what saddened him more was that their once-secluded table was now occupied by other students.

They circled again, searching for a place to sit. But due to the ball, most chairs in the Great Hall had been removed. Finally, Harry’s gaze landed on the “Gift Registry” near the entrance—there appeared to be a few empty chairs there.

“Wait a minute,” Zhang Qiu suddenly said. “Do Hogwarts students have to pay a gift fee to dance at their own school?”

Harry also realized something was odd, then recognized the clerk sitting there writing—she was Hermione, with a new hairstyle and hair color.

After a brief hesitation, simply lured by the prospect of having a place to sit, they chose to sit at the white-clothed table.

“Oh, you two,” Hermione glanced over. “Looks like you’re not too keen on this ball either.”

“Yes, and clearly you’re smarter than us,” Harry said sincerely. “You can openly review your studies—I see this is… so what exactly is this?”

“Some Muggle mathematics,” Hermione said naturally, closing her book, then standing to sit beside them. “There are princes coming to this ball, right?”

Seeing Hermione was genuinely in the mood to talk, Harry set aside his guilt about interrupting and began explaining the tensions between Muggle royalty and the Ministry of Magic.

“Actually, I don’t know if you’ve ever considered this,” Hermione said seriously. “How should power be divided between wizards and Muggles?”

Zhang Qiu replied calmly and confidently: “Oh, so you think China’s experience doesn’t fit here.”

Hermione glanced at Harry, then sighed helplessly. “More precisely, it’s Potter who wouldn’t suit that approach.”

“You’re talking about the Philosopher-King again,” Harry said, feeling this topic, like the ball, was beginning to bore him.

“That’s all in the past,” Hermione said seriously. “Interestingly, I think the answer has just walked right up to us.”

“First, to solve the problems of bureaucratic inefficiency, redundancy, and nobody taking responsibility, we still need a strong leader. From a cross-world coordination standpoint, appointing a wizard familiar with Muggle affairs makes sense. But if no wizard in our world can shoulder this burden,” Hermione explained her thoughts, “I suggest attempting a royal restoration, building an Arthur-Merlin system based on history.”

“That is, restore the monarchy and grant it supreme authority in the Muggle world, while the wizarding leader serves as the king’s personal advisor, using higher royal power to harmonize authority and affairs between the two worlds. If we go further, I hope the queen can be a wizard—this would create better lubrication at the intersection of power.”

Zhang Qiu couldn’t help laughing: “So Morgan becomes the heroine? I’m getting a villainess-rises-to-power story.”

“No, no,” Harry patted her hand. “Serious now—I think Hermione’s idea is very feasible, and it has a major advantage: it acknowledges and respects Muggle rights. If we always choose wizards as prime ministers, people will increasingly ignore Muggle rights, and that’s not good.”

“So the British monarch reclaims power, then reassigns it to a Muggle prime minister and a wizard Merlin—or let’s say, Advisor Wizard, Chief Mage, something like that,” Zhang Qiu’s expression grew serious too. “It sounds promising, but how feasible is it?”

“What? Feasibility wasn’t just—”

“No, I mean executability,” Zhang Qiu adjusted her posture. “How do we actually achieve this system? After three centuries of constitutional monarchy, can the public and the upper-middle class still accept royal rule?”

This truly stumped Hermione. She hesitated. “I’m not sure, but I think the first step should be a large-scale breach of the Statute of Secrecy—only then can the public realize the importance of wizards and reduce opposition to our plan.”

“But breaking the Statute of Secrecy isn’t a good idea,” Harry said firmly. “At least not just for this purpose, and not with fanfare.”

Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?

“Because if it were a good idea, Yanayev would have done it already,” Zhang Qiu offered an almost unassailable argument.

“So we must consider more extreme measures—within the current framework of the Statute of Secrecy, we must disguise it as a routine coup, even define the coup’s instigator as… the prince. Like Edward VIII, but this time he has magical support—he won’t lose.” Zhang Qiu continued. “As for his personal attitude, it doesn’t matter. If he refuses, we find someone who will—there are plenty of royal family members.”

“First, we need to find a document that supports us—or even forge one. Either way, it must authorize the king to dissolve Parliament. That’s step one, and the most important one,” Zhang Qiu held up one finger. “Where would your ancient texts from the 16th–17th centuries likely store documents on special constitutional acts?”

“Probably… the Old Library of St. John’s at Cambridge?” Hermione said uncertainly.

“But the royal family suggested we site Calia College there too,” Harry felt a cold sweat break out. “That’s probably just a coincidence… right?”