Unaware of what Harry Potter was thinking, Draco seemed to be distracted by something else entirely. His gaze kept drifting toward a table tucked away in the corner of the pub.
More precisely, toward the figure seated beside it.
"I have a bold idea."
Just as Harry Potter began excitedly laying out his plan, Hermione—who found it difficult not to pay attention to Draco—quickly noticed something off.
"Draco?"
"Hm?"
"I've been watching you since we came in. What are you looking at?"
Worried that his distraction might draw unwanted attention, Hermione continued listening to the discussion while quietly reminding him that this wasn't the time to be staring at other customers.
The last thing she wanted was for anyone to question Draco's position as a Prefect.
Unfortunately, her reminder didn't have much effect. If anything, Draco's low murmur pulled her focus in the same direction.
Unbeknownst to them, Penelope—who appeared to be listening attentively to Harry Potter—was also casting the occasional subtle glance their way.
For some reason, the Head Girl seemed particularly attentive to Draco's group.
"How are they here? He didn't mention this last night…"
"Draco, do you see someone you know?"
"Maybe. It could be someone you know too."
"Someone I know?"
Following his line of sight, Hermione could only see the broad back of a tall figure from where she sat.
Just as Draco had said, even without seeing the person's face, the silhouette felt oddly familiar. She simply couldn't place it.
Their small exchange didn't escape Penelope either. She glanced toward the corner as well.
The light in the Hog's Head was so dim it was difficult to make out much of anything. She couldn't see the stranger's face clearly, nor their clothes. What she could see, however, was the table in front of them—covered in triangular pyramids built from playing cards.
Delicate towers, stacked one card at a time. So fragile that even the slightest disturbance would bring them crashing down.
Judging by the number and height of the card towers, the wizard must have been sitting there for quite a while.
In another setting, such behavior might have drawn stares.
But in the Hog's Head, it wasn't particularly remarkable.
The pub was famous as a gathering place for all sorts of strange customers. Only people eccentric enough would choose to frequent a place this filthy and run-down.
Years ago, someone had even used a dragon egg as a gambling stake here.
...
After Harry Potter paused to wet his dry throat, everyone finally grasped the full outline of the plan.
Seeing that none of the Prefects were eager to speak first, Penelope calmly tapped her knuckles against the table.
"Well? Now that you've heard it, does anyone have other suggestions?"
"If that's the case… I'm in."
"Same here. It sounds solid."
"Agreed."
With Penelope taking the lead, most of the Prefects nodded one after another.
Cedric, who clearly didn't think he was any less capable than anyone else, frowned and voiced the concern on his mind.
"But how are we supposed to keep this from Umbridge? Secretly practicing spells isn't exactly something she'll overlook."
Yes.
Harry Potter's proposal was to establish an informal group called the Exchange Club.
Its purpose would be simple: during their free time, students from different Houses could gather to study and exchange knowledge. There would be no age restrictions. The focus would be mutual learning and improvement.
If circumstances allowed, they might even quietly invite other professors to give them lessons.
Once the Prefects understood the idea, most of them found it reasonable enough to support.
The real problem was how to keep it hidden from the High Inquisitor.
"Maybe we could ask Professor McGonagall for help. She'd probably support us."
"We can try. But don't expect too much—unless you're prepared to openly challenge school rules."
"And how do we make sure no one lets it slip? That's another issue."
The male Head Boy who said this cast a pointed look at Draco, who had remained silent the entire time.
The implication was obvious.
As if Slytherin students would be the first to betray them.
Hermione, equally a Gryffindor, shot the senior an angry glare.
"That shouldn't be a problem. After all, no one likes our pink toad, do they?"
Seeing her partner about to escalate things again, Penelope quickly stepped in, deliberately lightening the tone to ease the tension that had begun to build.
She also shot Hermione an apologetic glance.
Hermione huffed softly. The sound was clearly directed at the smug male Head Boy, who seemed completely unaware that he had just offended someone he probably shouldn't have.
When she turned and saw Draco sitting there as if the entire exchange had nothing to do with him, she couldn't resist stepping on his foot under the table.
It wasn't a hard stomp.
More like a kitten swiping at its owner in protest.
It didn't hurt. If anything, it tickled.
"What? Are we done? Can we leave?" Draco asked lazily.
"Don't 'what' me. Don't you have any opinion at all?"
"The Exchange Club? I'm not interested."
"This isn't about whether you're interested. You're a Prefect!"
"Tch."
His almost childish stubbornness made Hermione both irritated and amused. She gave him another light kick under the table.
Then, thinking about it, she realized something.
They already had a similar organization of their own. There was no need to join this Exchange Club at all. If they did, they'd only end up restricted by rules and expectations.
Perhaps that was why Draco had never seemed overly concerned about Umbridge's increasingly restrictive Educational Decrees from the very beginning.
While the discussion continued around them, the figure Draco had been watching suddenly stood up.
The person moved toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
The steps were unhurried. A hand reached up to press down the brim of a hat, clearly intending to obscure their identity.
Ironically, the deliberate concealment only made the figure seem more suspicious.
And just before disappearing up the stairs, the corner of the stranger's lips curved into a faint smile.
It lasted only a second.
But Draco saw it clearly.
It felt almost deliberate.
As though it had been meant for him.