Chapter 508: Slytherin Love Story

“I’m sorry, Harry, but I need to ask you something,” Pansy said seriously. “Who exactly is that Muggle from the ball?”

Harry hadn’t expected Pansy to ask such a question. He instinctively replied, “Huh? Didn’t Draco tell you?”

“Does he know?”

“Doesn’t he?” Harry frowned. “Zhang Qiu told me he found out long ago that he was a prince from the Muggle world. And wasn’t it your plan to push Astoria toward the prince?”

Pansy froze in place, her lips trembling slightly. Harry watched her in silent confusion.

“So it’s really this simple? The Muggle world just wants to marry into the magical world?”

“That’s all it is. What were you thinking?” Harry found it baffling, but then remembered: these two always overthought things—a side effect of the Death Eater elite’s habit of speaking in riddles.

“But Harry, if he’s just a prince meant for marriage, isn’t this overkill?” Pansy swallowed. “Why is the magical world making such a fuss? Even you’ve put Ginny on the table. But he’s still just a Muggle, isn’t he?”

Harry was about to explain, but he suddenly stopped. Yes, the smart people around him believed that after Hark, the Muggle world would retaliate—and the quickest path for wizards to reclaim control lay through the royal family. But for pure-blood families who knew nothing of the Muggle world and were only obsessed with the Muggle Prime Minister, a Muggle prince was still just a Muggle—they couldn’t see the power behind him.

“I need to correct you: Ginny wasn’t pushed onto the board by me. She wanted to meet the prince herself.” Harry chose not to elaborate. “She’s fallen for him. That’s all.”

Pansy frowned.

“But are you really sure he has no hidden identity…?” She trailed off, then laughed bitterly at herself. “Sorry, sorry—I know the Weasleys love everything Muggle, but still—ugh!”

Harry gave her a knowing look. “I think the problem isn’t the prince.”

“Yes, Harry, I’m sorry—the real issue is Astoria,” Pansy hesitated. “Draco’s looking at her more and more. I’m truly afraid… I want to push her away quickly, but the Muggle prince—oh, sorry—but she doesn’t like him.”

“Looks like a love triangle,” Harry rubbed his chin. “Tomorrow, come with me to Patif’s Tea House. Let Qiu help you figure it out.”

After Pansy left, Harry quietly exhaled: if these pure-bloods started realizing the prince held a shortcut to seizing power, it would be another round of chaos. Though he was confident he could handle these new ambitions, no one wanted another upheaval.

The next afternoon, Harry’s usual date with Zhang Qiu turned into an emotional consultation. But Qiu showed no displeasure—in fact, she enjoyed it.

“Well, plans change,” Qiu said thoughtfully. “When I first told you, I assumed Astoria would fall for the prince. Now that assumption’s failed, we need another approach… If gentle methods are exhausted, we’ll need something more drastic.”

“Wait!” Harry interrupted. “You’re the one who came up with the plan to push Astoria toward the prince?”

“I only made a suggestion—the plan was Pansy’s,” Qiu glanced away, slightly uneasy. “Besides, if Astoria and the prince didn’t spark, we wouldn’t force it, right? And for the prince, Ginny and Astoria are two completely different girls—giving him more options isn’t a bad thing.”

Harry was dissatisfied, but the situation was already set—he said nothing.

“Do you think Astoria doesn’t like the prince because she likes Draco?” Qiu asked again. “It takes two to tango—you have to consider both sides.”

“That’s it!” Pansy clenched her fists. “Is there any way to make her give up Draco? Even something drastic would do…”

“Wait,” Harry interrupted again. “Could it be that not liking the prince and liking Draco are completely unrelated?”

“Oh, there’s one more thing,” Pansy said seriously. “I secretly gave Draco a tiny dose of Veritaserum, but what he said left me completely confused.”

Harry’s tea, halfway to his lips, suddenly lost its appeal.

“He said he dreamed of a girl with green eyes.”

Zhang Qiu’s gaze shifted to Harry’s green eyes. Pansy followed, and then her expression hardened—the same guarded look she only wore when mentioning Greengrass.

“Why are you looking at me? He must’ve seen Mia by accident,” Harry said, exasperated. “Besides, shouldn’t you be relieved? Astoria’s eyes are blue-gray.”

“Don’t blame me,” Zhang Qiu suddenly laughed, rubbing her face. “You know, Master sometimes brings up an interesting topic: if Harry were a girl, her life would’ve changed completely. Snape would’ve doted on her, Draco would’ve been utterly obsessed, but she’d still fall for Ron—and that would drive him mad with jealousy…”

“Stop! Stop!” Harry raised a finger. “Give me something useful. Since you mentioned your Master, tell me what Divination and Fate say.”

“Oh, Draco’s destined wife is Greengrass—she’s known that bad news for a while,” Zhang Qiu shrugged helplessly. “But the good news? Fate no longer exists. And we’ve got plenty of experience fighting it.”

“She’s known for a while?” Harry looked at Pansy again, feeling absurd. “So yesterday you came to me just to get to Qiu?”

“See? I told you I’m an emotional master,” Zhang Qiu said smugly. “Now I’ll introduce you to a brilliant tactic—relatively mild, but far from gentle. I’m sure it’ll work. If it doesn’t… we’ll escalate.”

“You need to create an amnesia.”

Harry wanted to interrupt, but then realized: in the magical world, amnesia wasn’t rare, and it was relatively easy to cure—so yes, it qualified as “not too drastic.”

“Who’s going to lose their memory?” Pansy asked warily. “If Draco forgets everything we’ve been through, will he still love me?”

True—Draco was a looks man. Pansy’s only advantage was their shared history. Harry couldn’t help smirking.

“Of course it’s you,” Zhang Qiu said. “If you lose your memory due to a spell accident, Draco will be frantic. He’ll want to help you recover it—what will he do?”

More likely, Draco would happily go find another girl, Harry thought darkly.

“He’ll keep bringing up everything you’ve been through, trying to trigger your memories,” Zhang Qiu prompted gently. “In the process, he’ll relive it all himself—deepening his feelings for you. That’s one. Second, once his focus shifts to you, he’ll naturally ignore Astoria—no matter how things stand between them, this alone is effective. Third, if Astoria is secretly watching, she’ll realize you’ve become irreplaceable in Draco’s life—and she’ll back off.”

“You’re truly a master,” Pansy said with heartfelt reverence. “So… do I really need to lose my memory? Or can I pretend?”

“Better if it’s real,” Zhang Qiu said calmly. “If Draco finds out it’s fake, he’ll be angry. Besides, you need to experience true amnesia and memory recovery—it’ll help us with Plan B.”

“What’s Plan B?”

“Suppose, while recovering your memories, you recall something Draco never knew—what would he think? Would he suspect he, too, lost his memory?” Zhang Qiu said slowly. “The story can be shaped however you like. The point is, we’re fabricating a shared experience that deepens your bond. If handled well, it could make him vow to marry only you.”

As Zhang Qiu and Pansy debated the safest method of inducing amnesia, Harry finished his tea and decided to offer a more straightforward suggestion.

“Ladies, I must interrupt you,” Harry said. “Have you considered the possibility that, when Draco discovers Pansy’s amnesia, he won’t try to help her recover her memories—but instead, feels relieved, and chooses to fully pursue Astoria?”

“Then he’s a worthless bastard,” Zhang Qiu said matter-of-factly. “Let him go.”

But Pansy didn’t think that way. She hadn’t been with Draco for love—so her expression now was complex.

“My view is, Draco’s attention toward Astoria is mostly about Quidditch. This year, with Cui Ge, Slytherin has its best shot ever. But Astoria’s the team’s glaring weakness—she can’t play the later positions, severely limiting our tactics and Cui Ge’s ceiling.”

“So try helping him fix this. I think the Quidditch team needs a coach. If you spend more time and energy there, Draco will grow more dependent on you. And frankly, a coach has plenty of opportunities to pressure players, doesn’t he?”