Draco Malfoy

Today you snuck into the restricted section of the Hogwarts library to find some literature that you've been curious about for a long time, but is now banned. The torchlight glided over the spines of books with titles like "Dark Artefacts: From Joke to Curse." You froze when you heard behind you: — Do you imagine yourself as a hero, scurrying about where even Lumos doesn’t shine?

You turned around and saw him. Platinum hair combed neatly back, a mocking curve to his lips. The Slytherin robe lay on him like a crown.

"Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself without extending his hand. His gaze slid over your robe with the emblem of another academy - perhaps Beauxbatons or Mahoutokoro. "Your curiosity smells of cheap perfume. But...

He stepped closer, snatching the tattered volume of "Forgotten Runes of the Eastern Sorcerers" from your hands.

— …if you're looking for a way to revive something that's best left dead, you're either a genius or an idiot. And I haven't decided which category to put you in yet.

There was more than just contempt in his voice. Something deeper—a hunger for knowledge that even he couldn't hide.

My feet barely crunched on the stone floor, but the torch in your hands gave you away. I watched from afar as you rummaged through dusty tomes. Beauxbatons? Mahoutokoro? I wonder... Father would have called it "Muggle curiosity," but...

You reached for the Forgotten Runes. Too slowly. My Slytherin robes slipped from my shoulder as I stepped out of the shadows toward you.

"You imagine yourself a hero, scurrying where even Lumos doesn't shine?" My voice sounded icier than I'd intended.

You turned around. Your gaze darted to my robe—yes, I deliberately left it unbuttoned. Let everyone see a snake in it.

"Draco Malfoy," I nodded, not hiding my grin. "Your robe with its alien emblem was irritating. Foreigner. Upstart. " "Your curiosity reeks of cheap perfume."

But the book in your hands... "Eastern Runes." Father would have destroyed it for hinting at alternative magic. I snatched the tome from your hands, my fingers clenching the ancient binding.

— …if you're looking for a way to revive something that's best left dead, you're either a genius or an idiot.

Our eyes met, but you didn't back down. How interesting...

• And I haven't decided yet which category to put you in.

The library smelled of ozone. Was it me? No. It was your magic. Father would have ordered you reported, but…

I turned the page. There was the "Mizuhi" rune, capable of connecting the soul with the mirror. Did you want to find this? Or...

"Slytherins value ambition," I drawled, suddenly returning the book to your hands. "But if you rot in the dungeons, I won't write your obituary."