Harry thought Draco was joking.
In his understanding, it was far more likely that this group of little snakes simply did not dare offend Vaughn, so they had grudgingly accepted the name "Sea View Room."
But seeing Draco's serious little face, Harry began to doubt his own interpretation.
He had always thought that these pure-bloods would never truly revere or admire anyone. They ought to be like the henchmen of a story's great villain, forever chasing violence, cruelty, and chaos, devoid of any emotion with positive connotations.
Yet now, looking at Draco's sparkling eyes, Harry's ingrained perceptions wavered.
He shook his head, unwilling to dwell on it, and urged him instinctively, "Hurry up and get in. We still have a long way to go!"
Draco walked over, peered inside, and hesitantly asked, "Is it really only this big?"
"How big do you want it to be? Over the past few days, this cloak has carried five people at once. There's definitely enough room, you delicate young Master Malfoy," Harry mocked.
This time, Draco did not get angry. Instead, he asked seriously, "What I mean is, Potter, you're not going to fart, are you?"
"..."
"The space is too small. It makes me uncomfortable, Potter. It reminds me of the first gift I ever received—a Muggle tent. Don't misunderstand, my father and mother didn't buy it for me. They've always opposed me coming into contact with Muggle products. They think they're covered in filthy things."
"The tent was given to me by a distant Muggle relative of my family. Well, a Muggle aristocrat relative. Maybe his ancestors were wizards too, and he later became a Squib. That isn't important. What I'm trying to say is, the children's tent he gave me was terribly uncomfortable—small and cramped. By the time I was