What a load of stupid idiots...
was what Draco would be thinking if it was a year ago. Across the library, a group of first year students were crowded around a bookshelf, loudly arguing about whether or not they really needed that book on the top shelf that none of them could reach. He, on the other hand, was sitting at a table, a Transfiguration textbook lying open in front of him, and he had read the same paragraph ten times while holding his fingers to his temples and trying hard not to fall asleep. He had spent another long night in the Room of Requirement with the Vanishing Cabinet and still couldn't get it to work.
He was starting to get desperate.
Off to the side, he had a book about complex charms. All Draco wanted to do was open the book and read the next chapter, but he also had a Transfiguration essay due in a little over 12 hours. When had life gotten so complicated?
It didn't help that his arm was itching, and he couldn't pull up his sleeve to find out why, lest someone see.
Truthfully, Draco was miserable, and he was sure it was written all over his face, which was why he was trying in vain to stay away from other students. But the first years over by the bookshelf were starting to irk him, and he leveled a murderous stare at them, his fingers still at his temples.