The next day, everything seemed perfectly normal.
The students attended their classes according to their schedules and gossiped about the few minor rumors floating around the castle.
When night fell, Richie took his forged strategy logs and headed down to the Black Lake. At the exact same time, Joel and a few trusted prefects quietly removed the real strategy board from the Ravenclaw common room and locked it in a secure location.
"Harland!"
The welcoming committee this time consisted of only Crabbe and Goyle.
When they saw Richie approach, identical, smug grins spread across their faces.
Before Richie could even hand them over, Goyle aggressively snatched the rolls of parchment out of Richie's hands. He unrolled them, his eyes scanning the dense columns of complex equations, flight trajectory maps, and detailed physical profiles of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
"Excellent!"
Goyle raised a massive hand to clap Richie on the shoulder, but Richie easily side-stepped him.
Leaving Goyle's hand hanging awkwardly in the air, Crabbe let out a cruel laugh. He looked at Richie, shaking his head with exaggerated swagger.
"Listen up, 'Seven-Pointed Star.' The boss said he practically owns you now! If you just keep your head down, follow orders, and don't try anything stupid, he might actually let you hang out with us!"
Crabbe puffed out his chest, looking ridiculously proud of himself.
Richie just stared at the two of them and silently shook his head. These two absolute blockheads were single-handedly dragging down the average IQ of the entire school. He had no idea why Draco trusted them to handle anything more complex than tying their own shoes.
Not wanting to waste a second talking to them, Richie turned on his heel and walked away.
Crabbe and Goyle weren't bothered by the silent exit. Thrilled that they had secured the package, they hurried back to the Slytherin dungeon.
---
Slytherin Common Room.
Draco was lounging comfortably on a dark leather sofa. Sitting across from him was Marcus Flint, the massive, brutish Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, looking thoroughly unamused.
"Draco, I assume you understand that my time is extremely valuable," Marcus grunted, slowly polishing his wand with a dark green silk cloth.
"Obviously," Draco replied with a slow nod. "Just like I understand that you've been in contact with the Wigtown Wanderers. And that their scouts are coming to Hogwarts this Saturday specifically to watch you play."
Marcus's eyes instantly narrowed. "How do you know that?"
Marcus was a sixth-year. With only one year left before graduation, he was actively trying to secure a professional Quidditch career. But his talks with the Wanderers were strictly confidential. Nobody was supposed to know.
A smug smirk curled Draco's lips. "You didn't know? Just last month, the owners of several professional Quidditch teams approached my father, asking for the Malfoy family to invest. The Wigtown Wanderers were one of them."
"I suppose only the most elite pure-blood families have that kind of leverage... Of course, my father is still reviewing their portfolios."
Draco puffed out his chest, perfectly mimicking his father's arrogant drawl. "After all, it is an investment. A ticket to the highest echelons of capital warfare. If you place your Galleons blindly, you become a pawn on the board. And Malfoys are strictly the players."
A heavy silence settled over the Slytherin common room.
After a long moment, Marcus let out a slow, measured breath. "Alright. So why did you call me here tonight?"
Seeing that Marcus was finally hooked, Draco dropped the act. He sat up, leaning forward slightly. "I called you here because I want to help you. I want to help you win."
Draco locked eyes with the Captain. "Last term, Ravenclaw introduced a brand new Quidditch strategy system. They sit in the stands with notebooks, meticulously recording every single variable to formulate strategies we can't even comprehend."
"You saw what they did to Hufflepuff. It was an absolute slaughter! Anyone with a brain knows it was because of those data logs!"
Marcus grimly agreed. Ravenclaw had played like they were completely cheating. It wasn't that their raw flying skills were incredible; it was their terrifying tactical awareness. They seemed to predict Bludger trajectories, intercept Quaffle passes flawlessly, and perfectly anticipate the opposing team's formations before they even moved.
It was a level of absolute field control that genuinely terrified Marcus.
And to make matters worse, for the last few months, no matter which house was running a practice drill, there was always a group of Ravenclaws sitting in the stands, openly taking notes.
The creeping paranoia had pushed Marcus to the edge. He was the one who had orchestrated the recent campaign of bribery, blackmail, and ambush tactics against Ravenclaw, desperately trying to disrupt their prep. It had caused some chaos, but deep down, Marcus knew it wouldn't be enough to win the game.
"So, what exactly is your plan?" Marcus frowned.
Draco just smirked and waved a hand.
Right on cue, Crabbe and Goyle practically marched into the common room and stomped over to the sofa.
"Boss!"
"We got it, Draco."
Crabbe proudly dropped the rolls of parchment onto the low table between them. "That kid is a total coward. He handed over everything."
Draco nodded approvingly. "He knows his place."
He reached out and unrolled the top sheet, scanning the text.
[Bludger Trajectory Prediction Analysis... Conforms to Bernoulli curves... Striking the Tebley Apex generates a U-shaped flight path...]
[...]
[Aerodynamic Analysis: Air vortex generation via high-speed broomstick acceleration...]
[...]
[Captain Razim Gideon Profile: Right-hand dominant. Highly proficient in...]
Looking at the hyper-detailed formulas and tactical breakdowns, Draco genuinely clicked his tongue. "How do those nerds even come up with this garbage?"
He slid the parchment across the table toward Marcus. "Take a look."
Marcus picked up the papers with a skeptical scowl. But as he read the first few lines, his eyes bulged. "This... this is Ravenclaw's actual data? Where did you get this?"
"Don't worry about where it came from," Draco replied, leaning back against the sofa cushions, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "I got you the intel. If you can't win the match on Saturday with this... well, that's entirely on you."
Marcus finally tore his eyes away from the parchment, his expression still dark and suspicious. "How do I know this isn't just a trap? How can you guarantee this data is real?"
Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, who both gave firm nods confirming the theft. Draco turned back to Marcus.
"It's simple. We just wait until tomorrow morning. If the data is real... we'll know."
---
Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw Common Room.
Someone finally noticed the empty bulletin board.
"Hey! Has anyone seen the strategy logs?"
"What? I literally just pinned a new entry up there this morning!"
"Oh my god, the data is gone! They've been stolen!"