Chapter 518

It wasn’t that Harry or Sirius deliberately disrespected Donald; rather, as two native-born old British wizards, aliens were simply too distant, almost like a fairy tale. Most wizards, just as Muggles dismissed magic as madness, treated talk of aliens as nonsense.

Thus, despite their utmost respect, the two could hardly suppress their laughter—though Harry felt he was mostly influenced by Sirius; he hadn’t intended to laugh at all.

“You’re welcome to disbelieve, but watch closely. I say Ge Xuan has never done anything superfluous—I don’t believe he merely did this for a joke. He’s always said everything must yield returns. The Genius Rider is a perfect example: I never thought you could directly replicate the Genius Vial in another world, yet he did it.”

“Of course, we deeply respect your regard for Master Xuan.” Sirius cleared his throat forcefully, suppressing his urge to laugh, “But as the saying goes, summoning a group of aliens as enemies—what return is there in that?”

“I can’t be certain, but I think this is a very dangerous plan. Maybe he intends to use magic to defeat those aliens and seize their technology?” Donald hesitated, clearly having never considered this angle before—the aliens, mere figures from stories, had frightened him.

“But if aliens can be easily defeated by our magic, then their technology isn’t worth acquiring, is it?” Harry said seriously. “By comparison, I think this might be more like Master Xuan suddenly feeling playful—just like in A Song of Ice and Fire; we never saw the characters in that novel truly appear.”

“Because the characters haven’t been named yet,” Donald explained. “If we name a real child after one, the ritual’s effect will unconsciously nudge his personality and talents toward the novel’s character—though I haven’t yet figured out to what extent.”

“Then, Mr. Fontroy,” Sirius suddenly grew serious, “earlier, when you suggested naming the Werewolf Kingdom Gilneas—was that your idea? Does this name carry any meaning? Is it identical to a place in some novel or Muggle fiction?”

Donald opened his mouth wide, his gaze falling on the invitation on the table, then he nervously swallowed.

“I’m sorry—I truly only did it on a whim back then,” he said sincerely. “But Gilneas didn’t end well in the story—it was destroyed by undead invasion.”

“Undead?” Harry couldn’t help laughing again, but he quickly remembered Voldemort’s creation of Inferi—magic had its own undead.

“Though I don’t know how much this might affect reality, if we’ve understood the principle, perhaps we should ask them to change the name…” Sirius mused. “But frankly, this worry seems a bit too…”

"The man from Qi worried about the sky falling," Harry concluded. "It's an Eastern proverb describing someone who fears the sky will collapse—used to depict groundless anxieties. Zhang Qiu used this proverb last time to describe Bellatrix's fear that I was Voldemort's illegitimate son."

“Very apt,” Sirius said with a relieved smile. “Perhaps we can wait and see, Mr. Donald: if Gilneas remains unharmed and prospers, it proves this so-called magical naming principle doesn’t always work—and then you needn’t worry about those aliens.”

“It’s different,” Donald remained deeply troubled. “Master Xuan’s insight into fate and its manipulation far surpasses mine. Even if Gilneas avoids its fate, it doesn’t prove Hong’an is safe.”

When he spoke of fate, Harry suddenly remembered Tonks refusing the doctorate—she must have glimpsed something ahead. But if resisting fate was the matter, Harry felt he had some success—he needn’t fear anything.

“Look,” Sirius coughed twice, “Mr. Donald, think of it this way: whether aliens exist or not, since Ge Xuan invented this, he must have a way to deal with them, right?”

“Hard to say,” Donald still worried.

Harry picked up the invitation and handed it to him, half-amused. “Sir, regardless of what aliens truly are, we can still think of solutions together. Right now, you need to set aside this worry, go pick out a formal suit, and choose a lady companion for Gilneas’s once-in-a-century grand wedding.”

“To see if Gilneas’s spell works?” Donald rubbed his temples in agony. “What on earth is Ge Xuan thinking…”

After finessing the strange alien-worried transmigrant away, Sirius suddenly burst into laughter, then roared, howled, pounding the table uncontrollably. Harry, influenced by him, began giggling helplessly too—even though he didn’t know why it was funny.

“I’d bet this is a prank—Ge Xuan playing a trick on Donald,” Sirius said when he calmed down. “We used to do this too: use something only he cared about, a secret code only he’d understand—I call it a dog whistle. You mentioned before that both Ge Xuan and Donald came from parallel future timelines, correct? Especially if both are from the future, dog whistles would be plentiful and constantly renewed.”

“You mean the prank?” Harry scratched his head. “I thought Ge Xuan already tormented him enough last year with Eberhardt.”

“Pranking a self-important fool is always fun—and you just reminded me,” Sirius raised a finger. “I’ll go change Snape’s title on the invitation to [Respected Half-Blood Prince]. Oh, that’ll be delightful.”

Regardless, Easter break was coming, and Lupin and Tonks were about to marry—both wonderful things Harry eagerly anticipated, unaffected by Donald’s bizarre talk of summoning aliens. Yet those odd claims still subtly affected his mood, prompting him to ask Zhang Qiu.

“You mean the meaning behind Master’s actions? I think Sirius guessed right,” Zhang Qiu shrugged, equally unconcerned. “You might not know—after last year’s ‘filial piety’ incident, Donald flew into a rage and stormed to the Tianchao border, screaming insults at Master. So it makes perfect sense for Master to prank him with aliens—nothing special about it.”

“You used ‘create’ instead of ‘invent’—does that mean you also think the alien claim might be real?” Harry couldn’t help asking.

“Real or fake, if Master dares to do this, it means he isn’t afraid of it becoming true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, logically Donald should know this. And if aliens wanted to destroy humanity, Tianchao and your Master would need to fight them too,” Harry said, tugging his hair. “But why did it terrify Donald so much? He knows Master better than we do—if he’s afraid, does that mean he suspects Master might not be able to handle those aliens?”

“I think you’re overthinking this, Harry,” Zhang Qiu said. “Call it my poor English—I’ll rephrase: Master invented the alien story solely to prank Donald, to punish him for storming the Tianchao border. That’s all.”

“There, there,” she patted Harry’s back. “I know you’re worried because of that document—Hong’an Base’s name was signed off by you, and that troubles you. But even if aliens do appear one day, it has nothing to do with your signature.”

“If aliens already exist, your signature changes nothing—they’re already there,” Zhang Qiu said earnestly. “If they’re summoned by a name and magical ritual, they can’t exceed magic’s limits—and magic’s limits are in your and Ron’s hands. Nothing to fear.”

“Like Eberhardt—he truly had the power to create black holes in the story, but when we made him in the magical world, he was merely a slightly stronger knight,” Zhang Qiu smiled. “So don’t worry, alright?”

This final example truly put Harry at ease. He returned to his original tasks—organizing homework and notes, planning his holiday, and choosing his outfit for the Gilneas wedding.

When the day finally arrived, everyone’s face beamed with joy. With Snape and Lupin’s cooperation, the werewolves’ lives flourished, and the vampires gradually stabilized. Moreover, as the Focus Rainbow projects began large-scale construction across Europe, Muggle spies grew far fewer—and Albania’s Minister of Defense planned to attend the wedding, viewing these spies as a brilliant political achievement.

The only guest with a grim face was Donald. His constant anxiety over aliens drew covert laughter from nearly every wizard.