Chapter 1.
I think it's fair to say that I never really liked Harry Potter, that big loud mouth who thought he could get away with hardly any work because he was the 'chosen one'. Just like Snape had said in that first potions class. I liked Professor Snape's dislike for the boy. At least I had one teacher on my side. The rest of the teachers seemed to be delusional or something. It was luck that my two friends Crabbe and Goyle were in the same house as me, WITHOUT Harry. Crab and Goyle weren't too bright, but there were one step ahead of the others, at least they didn't think harry potter was a god or something. Clearly he isn't. do you agree? Well if you don't agree with me you better put this story away before I put a charm on you.
One thing I could never understand is what was going through Hermione's head. She was a... how do I put this... attractive? Girl. Why would she spend her time with harry potter and a second hand, pale skinned ginger? The Weasleys seemed to have a hatred for me as well. Why? All I did was call them hand-me-down gingers.
I spent weeks wondering what I could have done to make the famous Harry Potter to befriend me, no matter if he was in Gryffindor and i was a Slytherin. I could not hide my hatred for the boy. Still all I could think of was how proud father would be to hear that I had befriended a wizard of such high social standing.
All through out school I have been pushed away by harry, with him growing up to be quite the meddler, well he simply couldn't keep his nose out of other peoples business! I mean he tried to take on a fully-grown troll in first year! He got worse from then, he tried to save the Philosophers stone (sorcerers stone) that year too.
I did get some joy however by versing him in Quiddich the next year. i had gone home over the holidays and talked father into buying me AND the Slytherin Quiddich team all nimbus 2001's so that I could be seeker. Harry would never be able to top that, not even with his fluke flying skills. The bad news was that Hermione was a mud blood. Slytherin pride says that we must scorn Mud-bloods no matter what we really think about them. I did take pleasure is seeing the look of fury cross Ronald Weasley face the day I called her a mud-blood. Then his spell backfired and he ended up eating slugs. The best thing was that it wasn't my fault. Because there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. He had said the spell, and he should have known that his magical skills weren't advanced enough to perform such a basic spell.
Draco sighed and put down his pencil, why was his mother getting him to write an introduction to himself and keep a diary? It seemed like a stupid muggle tradition. He attempted to write again, picking up the flimsy lead pencil to the parchment like paper. There was nothing to write about now. Its all over, his family were shamed. Voldemort had fallen and it was harry who defeated him. In his anger I pressed the tip of my pencil into the notebook. The fragile graphite-lead tip ground and shattered into powder. Hell, this isn't even a quill Draco scorned as he brushed the ground lead and graphite off the page. If it had been a quill the grey-silver blur on my page simply wouldn't exist.
Ever since the war my parents have been hiding, I wasn't forced into hiding, well not yet. The compromise was that I would keep a diary to give to mother when I finally had to join them. I guess the one thing I had gotten out of the war was that what ever happens I definitely do not want to be a death eater anymore. I just sank back into the walls of Hogwarts and helped with the rebuilding efforts. Harry Hermione and Ron had stayed on of course, even though we had all officially finished our schooling. Every day there would be there, the un separable trio, Hermione with her hair pulled back into a neat ponytail working tirelessly next to Harry and Ron.
Hermione had always been a mystery to me, a mud-blood no less, but she was very interesting. She said her father was a dentist who looked after your teeth. Was being a dentist a dangerous job? It involved looking at rows of sharp teeth, it must be the equivalent of a dragon trainer surely.
I got up off the pile of rubble and stuffed the small pocket diary into my jeans pocket and began moving he rubble, piece by piece. I didn't understand why we couldn't just use magic to repair Hogwarts. We could fix the school with a few wand flicks, but the others had insisted, I mean 'Dumbledore's Army' had insisted that we not use magic. Each rock was sharp and scratched my hands, leaving scrape marks, but they never broke the skin. Behind me a small group of first years hurried buy. Yes, Hogwarts was still open despite it's depleted state. How could I complain though, I am a Slytherin, and I should be proud. The Days merged into one another; sometimes Draco couldn't remember what day it was half the time.
Early one morning, it must have been after Christmas when an owl arrived for Draco. Draco was sitting in the Owlry looking over the piles of snow-covered rubble that still remained after the battle when Bubo, flew in, dropping the letter on my lap. Bubo sat on a perch looking at me triumphantly, as if he were expecting praise or a treat.
"Get lost," he muttered, shifting my gaze to the letter that now lay in my lap. Draco sighed, the letter was as he had predicted, from his mother. She had written to him nearly every day for a long time. Draco hardly had anything to write back, nothing new or slightly interesting was happening at all. He broke the seal tearing apart the carefully folded envelope. Draco missed the details like this. The envelope had been made by his mother as she had run out of envelopes but had wanted to send Draco this message so desperately she had turned to making her own envelope. Draco unfolded the parchment and began to read the message his mother had written. He only reached a few lines in when he began shouting in protest.