Chapter 513: Dancing with the Bear

Harry had to admit that Zhang Qiu’s fresh perspective on the problem, and her astonishing—even absurd, yet seemingly viable—path forward, had left a profound and indelible mark on him.

He walked up to Draco and asked seriously, “Do we really have a chance to go to the Moon now? Do you want to join?”

Draco’s face showed surprise, disbelief, and a complicated mix of reluctance and helplessness; he sighed, “I need time to think about it.”

Then, as Harry sat at the Ministry’s long table and smiled at the Prime Minister, asking, “What risks and benefits do you see in cooperating with Su Fang on a lunar mission?”—the Prime Minister’s expression mirrored Draco’s exactly.

Initially, Zhang Qiu had conceived this idea to help Pan Xi gain an advantage in the love triangle, and upon suspecting Draco’s secret collusion with Astoria, she quickly devised a way to destroy him: actually going to the Moon.

In that romance novel, the male and female leads, though forgetting each other by accident, reunited and fell in love again through their childhood promise to go to the Moon—during NASA’s lunar program. But if applied to reality, Astoria’s frail health made her incapable of participating in any real lunar mission; thus, a genuine opportunity to go to the Moon would backfire on Astoria, trap Draco in an impossible position, and allow Pan Xi to solidify her standing.

Of course, Harry, having just endured a month of arguments, was about to list every practical obstacle to a lunar mission—but Zhang Qiu had something else in mind: a colossal force already capable of reaching the Moon.

“If you just want to send him up for a quick ride, you can hitch a ride with the Celestial Empire—we launch two rockets annually to the Cold Palace; pay extra Galleons and you can activate the teleportation array directly,” she said carelessly. “But clearly, the heart of the story lies in the time astronauts spend together before launch—so what we actually need to do is support the Prime Minister in launching his lunar program.”

“But the ESA is far too weak, and the Prime Minister refuses to approach NASA,” Harry admitted—the Celestial Empire had once again surpassed his imagination—but more practical problems couldn’t be solved overnight.

“Then why not cooperate with Yanayev?” Zhang Qiu suddenly proposed an idea that seemed heretical at first glance, yet upon closer thought, proved feasible—and even highly advantageous.

Upon first hearing this, the Prime Minister, like Harry, gasped in disbelief—but soon they grasped the subtle context: if the Prime Minister directly allied with Su Fang, the opposition Conservative Party would seize the chance to scream that no Muggle trusted that red giant, and the White House would respond with the gravest possible reaction—yet the magical world would remain utterly unmoved.

Yes, if this were a transaction within the magical world, there would be no domestic resistance; the current wizarding community was as solid as iron, and Hark had the good fortune to be seamlessly integrated into it: he could safely exploit this cooperation for gain, without facing scrutiny or opposition—even without any leaks.

And would wizards care what the Prime Minister and the Minister for Magic did together? Their entire understanding of the Soviet Union was that it fielded a Quidditch team with decent results but an excruciatingly dull style—and in recent years, its performance had declined further, even drawing level with Scotland.

As for the White House, perhaps they might receive a whisper from the Magical Congress—but they could never use it as evidence. The White House could never obtain any proof from the magical world; every wizard in the Magical Congress would simply ask, “Who’s responsible for handling Potter?” And even if the White House tried to speak without evidence, the wizards who understood the plan’s core and the power imbalance would still ask, “Who’s responsible for handling Potter?”

Thus, after a month of arguing why the ESA wouldn’t work, the Prime Minister and his scientific team spent only a week arguing why Korolev would—and delivered a fully detailed plan.

“We must clarify the core of this: the main gains are prolonging and intensifying the Cold War, plus some technological exchange—it’s a magnificent… offshore balancing act, yes!” Hark spoke as if utterly lost in his own world. “Even amid the US-Soviet rivalry, we can still proudly stand apart, shaping the world’s direction…”

After Arthur’s fourth cough, he finally returned to the point: “...Of course, we all know the core of this plan is Harry. Our starting point—or rather, our excuse—is that General Potter wishes to help his friend fulfill his dream of going to the Moon—a small magical whim. To this end, we’re willing to make certain deals with Yanayev—including ensuring that, uh, the git, gets on the rocket. Though that’s the least important part.”

Yes, Draco didn’t even attend this meeting.

“Following the scientists’ advice, we could share some technologies with them—after all, we lead the world in certain fields,” the Prime Minister continued cheerfully. “For example, we provide microelectronics, high-end chips—things they desperately lack. And precisely because they lack them, their software and system integration is a mess—these can be our key leverage. I’ve learned their heavy rockets plan to parallel thirty engines; that demands extreme system design precision. Our technology would be crucial.”

“In return, we hope to acquire some of their unique technologies—but even if we don’t get them, it doesn’t matter. What matters more is securing cheap energy and minerals—it will boost our economy, and that’s what we need most,” the Prime Minister rushed on. “And relocate some non-core manufacturing to Britain to combat unemployment.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Harry scratched his head, puzzled. “All these deals you’re describing are directed at the Muggle world—won’t people realize you’re trading tech for resources? And especially with Yanayev—that sounds incredibly short-sighted. Even though I have no issue with Yanayev, I still think it’s stupid.”

“Ah, you can’t say that,” the Prime Minister explained. “What do you think our domestic situation is? What’s our greatest problem? As we analyzed earlier—even if we acquired some technology, even the full lunar program, we still lack launch sites. But conversely, if we secure cheap energy or open factories, we benefit the marginal constituencies—ahem, the general public!”

Seeing Harry’s opposition fade, the Prime Minister grew even more carried away. “How would Muggles know what we actually traded? They’ll only see energy prices drop, the treasury swell, new social welfare and public spending—all thanks to my shrewd diplomacy and steady economic policy. A golden age… Hark’s era!”

Now he finally understood—but what harm could there be? Perhaps none. After all, Harry held no prejudice against Yanayev; if this tech exchange redirected his focus from arms races to space development, it would be a decent benefit for all of humanity.

Of course, Harry admitted, when he asked Draco, “Do we really have a chance to go to the Moon now? Do you want to join?”—he’d gained his own private satisfaction from Draco’s twisted expression.

Soon, rumors began spreading again in the Daily Prophet: the Prime Minister had found a new ally, and the lunar program was moving forward. An announcement recruiting wizard astronauts, along with whispers about “the importance of wizarding power,” floated through the air—as if the opportunity were within Draco’s grasp, placing him in an impossible bind.

If he clung to his vague excuse—“I don’t know why, but I want to go to the Moon”—why not sign up? If he abandoned it, Astoria’s carefully crafted scheme would collapse; could he still play the gullible boy in front of Harry?

Watching Draco trapped, Harry had a whole storehouse of schadenfreude to share with Zhang Qiu—but she suddenly announced she was returning home for Spring Festival. So, in her absence, he simply laughed loudly with Ron in their dormitory.

Yet without Zhang Qiu’s watchful eye, Draco quickly found a way out through the female group.

“What? You want to join the lunar program?” Harry couldn’t fathom why Hermione would suddenly insert herself into this. “But this plan has no real meaning—and aren’t you busy preparing for exams?”

“Harry, you don’t understand how crucial joining the lunar program is for my future,” Hermione said seriously. “How many students get into Oxford or Cambridge every year? How many get to walk on the Moon?”

“No, first of all, it’s extremely dangerous—even with your wizarding power—”

“I never said I’d go up myself,” Hermione smiled. “Even just being part of the team—as an engineer or project manager—helping achieve this great leap for humanity—wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

“Besides, participating in the lunar program is a huge credential—it helps my university applications,” Hermione added a more practical reason. “Without wizarding connections, us students would never qualify, right?”

“Alright, if you want to, it’s a rare chance to learn and grow…” Harry didn’t stop her—but now Draco could use that unspoken, universally understood excuse to avoid the program entirely.