When Harry and the others heard that voice, their expressions changed—especially Harry's. But just as they were about to make a swift exit, Harry suddenly felt a tug at his back. With a resigned sigh, he turned to see Colin Creevey beaming at him, camera in hand, positively glowing with excitement...
Ron and Hermione stood off to the side, looking on helplessly as Harry was swept into another photograph with Colin. Ron pouted and muttered,
"This is ridiculous. It reminds me of how my mum acts every time she sees Professor Lockhart!"
Hermione frowned slightly.
"Oh, come off it. At least Professor Lockhart is the most famous wizard in the magical world—second only to Headmaster Dumbledore. But Harry? His fame comes solely from what happened in the past. As far as magical skill goes... even I've surpassed him."
"Even though we're friends, I have to admit—Harry's magical ability doesn't live up to his reputation."
Ron gave a scoff.
"And Lockhart's any better? We haven't even had his class yet, but I heard his first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for the first-years was a total disaster."
While Harry tried to politely fend off Colin Creevey and Ron and Hermione grumbled about Lockhart, none of them noticed a Slytherin girl quietly standing at the far end of the corridor, watching everything unfold.
As it turned out, Ron wasn't wrong. The very next day, in Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson for the second-years, the professor—brimming with self-confidence—unleashed a group of Cornish pixies into the classroom. Chaos erupted almost immediately.
Lockhart made a hasty exit, abandoning the students to deal with the mess. Thankfully, Hermione managed to freeze the pixies in place with a well-aimed Immobulus, putting an end to the commotion.
The farce soon spread like wildfire through the halls of Hogwarts.
As the students debated endlessly about Lockhart's various antics, not everyone was focused on him.
The following afternoon, after classes had ended, Hermione, arms full of heavy books as usual, was heading to the Hogwarts library to study. As she turned a corridor, she passed by a Slytherin girl.
Hermione recognized her immediately—it was Cassandra, a senior student known to be close with Wentworth and his circle. Since the girl clearly had no intention of saying hello, Hermione didn't bother either.
As Cassandra disappeared around the corner, Hermione gave it no further thought and continued on to the library.
But after reaching a secluded hallway, Cassandra pulled a card from her robes—the symbol of her membership in the Secret Order. She whispered a message onto its surface: a summons for tonight's gathering. Then she slipped it back into her robes and left with a smile.
Meanwhile, in the library, Hermione had just sat down when she felt something sharp poking through the inner lining of her robe pocket.
Curious, she reached in and pulled out a card. On it, written in fine, slanted handwriting, were the words:
"Tonight, midnight. Room of Requirement. Welcome to the deeper world of magic."
Hermione stared at the card, baffled. She was just about to toss it aside when a realization struck her.
"Wait a second... The Room of Requirement? That's not a place just anyone knows about. Only a handful of people know I've even been there. But who?"
"It can't be Harry or Ron... Malfoy? Or Wentworth? Surely not Professor Snape...?"
Still puzzled, Hermione tucked the card away.
That night, while Hermione lay tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, several students were already gathered in the Room of Requirement for the first meeting of the term: Cassandra, Cedric, Kirk, and now Draco had all assembled.
As soon as they were seated, Kirk yawned loudly.
"Heart King," he said, using Cassandra's code name, "what's so urgent you had to drag us all here?"
Though there was no misty shroud in the room, everyone could see the fatigue on Kirk's face. And it wasn't surprising. Between preparing for his final exams and his duties as Head Boy, Kirk was nearing the edge of exhaustion less than a week into the term.
Cassandra frowned at his haggard look. She pulled a small vial from her cloak and rolled it across the table to him.
"Spade King," she said firmly, "take this. One drop whenever you feel exhausted. Just one. No more."
Kirk picked up the vial, noticing it bore no label. Curious, he asked,
"What is it?"
"A potion to temporarily boost your energy," Cassandra replied. "No side effects."
Kirk didn't question it further. After all, Cassandra's father was the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the British Ministry of Magic. If she didn't have access to powerful potions, that would be the surprise.
Draco, watching from the side, couldn't hold back his curiosity.
"That stuff must be expensive, huh?"
Cassandra glanced at him, then said evenly,
"You couldn't buy it—even if you had the gold."
Draco: "…"
Trying to ease the awkward silence, Draco quickly added,
"Anyway, the biggest thing stirring up gossip lately is that Gilderoy Lockhart is starting the Central Bank of the Wizarding World. I've got an inside scoop—sure, several old pure-blood families are involved, but guess who the real owner is?"
At Draco's self-satisfied tone, Cassandra, Kirk, and Cedric exchanged glances, barely concealing their amusement.
Cedric played along, leaning forward with interest.
"Oh? Are you saying you—or your family—are pulling the strings behind it, Club Jack?"
Draco nodded proudly. Lucius had already begun involving him in matters related to the Alliance, so nothing about the bank had been hidden from him.
Just as Draco was about to continue, Kirk chuckled and said,
"According to what I've heard, Lockhart's one of the Alliance's people. So that makes you one too?"
Draco froze. He hadn't expected someone in this secretive group to know the truth.
Though he'd gradually come to hold the Secret Order in ever-higher regard, tonight confirmed it—they were even more mysterious than he'd imagined.
Then Kirk added,
"Or maybe... your parents are among the oldest pure-blood families in Britain?"
Draco fell silent. No one liked the feeling of being in a room where everyone else might know who you are—but you know nothing about them.
---
TL/N:
Shortening the names of the cards to better fit as their codenames.
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