Chapter 503

After the first dance, Harry no longer had much desire to dance, but Hermione seemed to cherish this rare moment of relaxation, pulling him into the dance floor to release the pressure of their studies. As a result, Harry patiently went along, occasionally glancing around at the gossip with the corner of his eye.

The pair most likely to draw his attention was naturally Ginny and the Prince: she in a wine-red backless gown, he in a dark black military uniform with gold trim—even setting aside their status, they were among the most strikingly handsome and beautiful couples on the dance floor.

Yet clearly, they seemed uncomfortable: Ginny was frowning at the Prince, while he stood rigidly upright, slightly bowing his head to listen, his smile tinged with resignation.

“What are you looking at?” When Harry once again drifted off to observe them, Hermione couldn’t help following his gaze.

“Oh, I think they’re nervous,” Harry whispered.

“Nervous is good,” Hermione subtly pointed behind the Prince; only then did Harry notice his other hand had been rubbing back and forth the entire time.

When the song ended, the two immediately headed for the drink station, and Harry turned his full attention to watching Ginny and the Prince. Then, following their gestures, he spotted Eve already collapsed in Ron’s arms.

“Ah, let her be,” Harry felt an inexplicable sense of embarrassment.

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said with a faint smile. “This might make a fine example.”

A gentle waltz began, the next dance arriving as scheduled, and Ginny, with a polite smile, placed her hand in the Prince’s palm. They danced a flawless, nearly textbook routine: no stepped-on toes, no missteps, not even extra glances exchanged. But Harry, with his extensive ballroom experience, quickly sensed something off.

“A bit too close,” he murmured. In normal social dancing, partners kept a ten-inch distance—but Ginny kept breaking it; within a single measure, her skirt had brushed the Prince’s toes for the third time. Then the Prince responded: his right hand, meant only to lightly support, pressed firmly against Ginny’s lower back.

“Her posture’s loose—but it’s feigned,” Harry continued observing. “Oh, that’s odd—shouldn’t the next step be…?”

Sure enough, after a couple of attempts, Ginny finally succeeded in stepping on her own skirt and naturally leaned forward—whereupon the Prince, understanding, caught her waist. They then parted with smiles, but this time, the smiles carried a genuine warmth.

“What did you notice?” Hermione asked, holding a huge slice of cake, relaxed.

“They might really have sparked something. Very likely,” Harry said seriously. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? First, Ginny found a boy she likes. Second, the monarchy and the magical world will trust each other more—this benefits our plan.”

Plan? Harry’s thoughts instantly returned to the time when Ginny and the Prince had first met—when Hermione and Zhang Qiu had suddenly devised a plan: “fabricate a discovery of a constitutional amendment from the old library, use magical-world influence to help the monarchy restore power, gradually fracture parliamentary factions, and ultimately establish a power structure of King–Prime Minister–Court Wizard, fully seizing control of the nation.” To Harry at the time, the plan had seemed terrifying; now, it was slightly less so—but still terrifying.

“Oh god, forget that insane idea,” Harry shook his head. “I just hope Ginny made this choice on her own. Don’t tell me it’s part of the plan.”

“Hmm, I’m sorry, Harry, but I must admit—I did explain this plan to Ginny. Perhaps the plan’s existence gave Ginny a filter for the Prince, but I still believe she genuinely likes and admires him. After all, you’ve seen him—he’s handsome, gentle, and naturally has many qualities girls adore.”

Harry frowned.

“At that gathering, we discussed: if Great Britain ever needs to adopt a more expansionist foreign posture, a strong and capable leader is essential. And since the magical world is our primary advantage, this leader must be able to mobilize magical forces—either he’s a wizard-born Prime Minister, or he must have sufficient trust in wizards.”

“Moreover, we know the Muggle world has its own factions—they won’t allow wizards to dominate Muggle politics indefinitely. We already have Hark as a wizard-born Prime Minister; the next, even the next two, will likely never have another wizard. And we can hardly trust a Muggle Prime Minister to understand the magical world, just as he can hardly trust us… In short, over the next ten to fifteen years, wizards will likely find it impossible to legally enter the center of power.”

Harry found this outlook overly pessimistic. “But we already have Hark as a fine precedent—and he’s still in office. Isn’t this a bit premature?”

“Hark is clearly not a strong enough leader. We can hardly expect him to leave behind any usable legacy for the magical world,” Hermione shook her head. “And he’s delivered few convincing achievements. His very existence proves wizard Prime Ministers offer no real advantage. Worse, his diversion of cabinet funds to build the magical floating city may have angered certain interest groups, inviting smear campaigns.”

“So if the Muggle elite reject wizards from their circles, monarchy restoration becomes our only way to reclaim power—and the Prince’s existence becomes even more essential—unless you truly want to watch Muggle fools waste our hard-won advantage in endless party infighting and internal decay.”

Harry had always maintained a cautious, slightly resistant attitude toward this topic. Now his gaze rested on Ginny and the Prince: their interactions were growing increasingly intimate. When the dance ended, the Prince raised his hand and gently plucked a golden ribbon from Ginny’s hair. His motion was slow—but Ginny didn’t pull away. She merely tilted her face slightly, lips curved in a smile, eyes sparkling with tiny lights.

“Say, if one day, because we distrust Muggle politicians, we use the Prince’s status to launch a coup and place him on the throne, replacing him with a magical-world politician—say, Dogi—as the so-called Merlin…” Harry paused. “What do you think the Prince would feel?”

“He’d be delighted to have married the real Guinevere,” Hermione smiled. “The Weasleys are geniuses at naming.”

“I think he’d feel lost—even find Ginny alien,” Harry shook his head. “You know Zhang Qiu and I have known each other since early on, but for a time in third year, I suddenly felt she was completely unfamiliar—I was afraid, didn’t know how to act, even wanted to run away from her.”

“In third year, I realized she had real power—many people from the Celestial Dynasty served her—and her reason for coming to me was to pursue the force of fate… Oh no, that was the time I most doubted our feelings.” He spoke with deep feeling. “If the Prince realizes this—that their union is being pushed by countless ambitious hands behind them—it will inevitably damage their bond.”

“But you and Zhang Qiu still ended up together, didn’t you? And because of her special situation, you grew faster,” Hermione said dismissively. “Perhaps this could push the Prince to grow faster too. When he truly sits on the throne, he won’t care about the hidden origins of their relationship—he might even come to thank the magical world for everything. And a friendly monarch is exactly what we need, especially since he seems intelligent.”

“What about Ginny? She’s never been power-hungry. If you want a mature monarch, you’ll have to sacrifice her happiness.”

“We can’t do that. Ginny is one of us—our close friend. If you can’t protect her happiness, how can you protect anyone else’s? If you’re willing to sacrifice hers, does that mean you’ll sacrifice others’ happiness too in the future?”

As he spoke, his emerald eyes glowed faintly behind his glasses, causing Hermione to think of someone: “You’re starting to sound like Dumbledore.”

A strange feeling rose in Harry’s chest. He didn’t want to dwell on it—he wanted to move the conversation forward. “Yes, he said something similar: when you pursue great goals, never forget why you took the first step. If you want to benefit the world, never let those close to you suffer first—no one who isn’t loved can ever truly possess the world.”

“Did he say that?” Hermione sounded skeptical.

“No, Grindelwald said it,” Harry gave a silly grin. “He proved through practice that using conspiracy and force to achieve wizard dominance is unworkable.”

Hermione mechanically licked the now-clean cake spoon. These words seemed to strike a chord within her—and carried another, deeper implication: if someone were to act as Grindelwald did, then Harry, who now held the greatest magical power, might stand firmly to stop her.