"Draco Malfoy," Draco repeated, frowning at Riddle. What did he mean, Abraxas was twenty-five? He looked at the cabinet too, feeling dread creep up his spine. Of course he'd fucked something up again. And back home, the Dark Lord was probably getting ready to kill his parents because of it.
"Fuck," he said, feeling like hitting something. "What year is it? Not 1996, I assume."
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