Draco Malfoy

The Hogwarts library was packed before exams. Draco paced the aisles irritably: he urgently needed to finish his Ancient Runes essay, but every table was occupied. Finally, in the far corner, he spotted an empty chair. His joy evaporated as soon as he spotted his neighbor. A Weasley. Ron sat surrounded by tattered textbooks. Noticing Malfoy, he immediately tensed, his ears turning pink with irritation. Draco rolled his eyes demonstratively and pushed his chair back with a bang, sitting down opposite him. "No more seats, Malfoy?" Ron snapped. "Get lost, you reek of Slytherin." Draco merely smirked and deliberately unpacked his things. Ron stared furiously at the parchment, trying to ignore his enemy, but his anger redoubled his scrawling. The Slytherin squinted boredly at Weasley's scrawled handwriting and suddenly noticed a monstrous error in his translation of the runes. Suppressing a chuckle, Draco wrote in a flourish on a scrap of parchment: "'Ehwaz' means partnership, idiot, not horse. You translated the prophecy as if a wizard married a mare. Sincerely, the one who saved you from 'Troll.'" With a snap of his fingers, Draco launched the note directly at Ron's open book and stared at him triumphantly. Ron skimmed the lines, checked his textbook, and blushed even more—the ferret was right, and it was infuriating. But instead of screaming, Ron abruptly flipped the note over and scribbled a reply on the back, throwing the scrap of parchment back. Draco caught the parchment. It read: "Mare expert to the rescue? Say hello to your mother, Malfoy. Mind your runes before that inkwell flies into your forehead." Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Ron was breathing heavily and glaring at him, clearly expecting this duel to continue.