Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I may be J.K. Rowling - in disguise. Or maybe not. The world may never know...
You have probably heard of Harry Potter. Of course you have. Famous Potter, born to a detestable git and a mudblood. Famous Potter stopping the Dark Lord at every turn, being Dumbledore's pet, The Boy who Lived, yada yada yada. Of course you've heard of him. Everybody in the wizarding world is practically worshiping him.
Well, I should probably introduce myself. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I have the unfortunate displeasure of telling this detestable tale.
I should probably start at the beginning, the first time I ever met the Boy who (sadly) Lived.
Father and I were traversing the cobblestone path of Diagon Alley, purchasing supplies for my first year at Hogwarts, extracting a couple hundred Galleons from our Gringotts account, and the like. I was getting my robes fitted at Madam Malkin's when I first laid eyes on Potter.
"Hello," I asked him as he sat down beside me. "You a Hogwarts student too?"
"Yes," he replied nonchalantly.
"Father and Mother are off getting my supplies. They better get me some eagle feather quills. Then I'll take them to go look at racing brooms. Say, do you play Quidditch?"
"No," he replied.
He doesn't play Quidditch? He must be off his rocker! Probably a potential Hufflepuff; they get all the losers and outcasts.
"You don't? Pity. Well, I do. I'll probably be picked to be on the Slytherin Quidditch team, which reminds me, what house are you gonna be in?"
"I don't know"
"Ok then. Imagine being a Hufflepuff! I'd rather be a Squib!"
"Mmm"
"Don't talk much, huh? Where are your parents? Buying supplies?"
"They're dead."
"My condolences. Is that the great oaf Hagrid right outside the shop?"
"He's not an oaf. I think he's brilliant,"Potter retorted.
"You think his brilliant? Ha! That obese buffoon is anything but! There's my parents approaching. See you at Hogwarts, I suppose."
That was the last I heard of him till I saw him on the train to Hogwarts on the first day, the day of the Sorting.
When I laid my eyes on the bloody idiot for the second time, he was with someone with red hair and loads of freckles. Obviously a Weasley. I spoke up as soon as I saw them."Everybody on this bloody train has been saying rather redundantly that Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it true? Is famous Potter here?"
"Yes," Potter replied.
Motioning to the behemoths on either side of me, I said, "Oh. Yes. This is Crabbe," I said, pointing to my left, "and this is Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You've probably heard of my father. You know, Lucius Malfoy, the most influential and richest man in the Ministry?"
"Sure I've heard of him. Most conceited fool in Britain," the redhead beside Potter replied, his mouth stuffed with a Chocolate Frog, disgusting.
"And I'm sure I've heard of you, or at least your family. Father tells me that all Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more kids than they can afford. Say, you must be Ron, the sixth child. They'll probably have to sell their house to put you and your little sister through Hogwarts, and even that might not be enough," I replied with a sneer. Potty's little boyfriend turned as red as his flaming hair.
I continued. "You see, Potter, in this world, there are the good sort of folk and the bad sort. You don't want to go off into the destitute crowd of people like the Weasleys and that buffoon Hagrid. I can help you there." Ron turned even redder.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thank you very much. Now leave," he replied coolly.
"Oh, I don't think we're leaving now, are we."
"You'd better if you know what good for you," Ron shot back, his fists clenched.
"Oh, now you want to fight! Well the odds are stacked quite against you. I wouldn't want to have to let Crabbe and Goyle out on you two and your pathetic rodent," I said, referring to Ron's pet rat, Scabbers.
As the words were exiting my mouth, Scabbers launched from the pile of wrappers where he was sleeping and fastened himself to Goyle's little finger.
"Aaahhhh! Get it off me! Get it off me!" Goyle screamed, prancing around like a little girl.
I backhanded the vermin off Goyle and into the window off the compartment, but I could tell this battle was finished. Goyle was still screaming and ran out of the compartment.
"This isn't over," I told Potter as I walked beck to my compartment with Crabbe.
As the Hogwarts Express rattled to a stop and Crabbe, Goyle, and I climbed into a boat to ride to the magnificent castle, all I could think about was how much I already hated Potter. I would be facing a whole new challenge at Hogwarts with all the teachers (and especially that mad codger Dumbledore) watching my every step.