I will not under any circumstances ask Harry Potter who died and made him boss.
"HEY! Malfoy! Drop him, he's only a first year," Harry said as he rounded a corner, immediately spotting his school enemy hassling some first year.
Draco Malfoy looked like he wanted to kick something, preferably Potter, but the first year in his grasp would do as an adequate substitute. He was small, dark haired, pale skinned, and really scrawny. He wouldn't fight back, which was a shame, but that also meant he wouldn't tell.
"Look potter, mind your own damn business okay?"
"This is my business."
"Since when?" Draco asked sneering all the while.
"Since you started to be more of a prick than usual. Especially to those younger than you."
Draco glared harder, and sneered some more saying, "Potter. Go away, this has nothing to do with you."
"Let him go an I will."
"You can't tell me what to do."
Yes I can. Now put him down."
"Who died and made you boss you little twat?"
Suddenly Harry lunged, and knocked Draco to the ground effectively making him drop the first year, who ran like a bat out of hell. The dark haired boy landed punch after punch to the blonde's face and body, literally trying to beat the life out of him.
"Fuck you Malfoy. You and your death-eater father can rot in hell."
Three hours later, when Draco was released from the hospital, nursing an extremely bruised face, he thought back to his comment about dying, and declared that even though it had slipped out without him thinking about it, it was totally worth it.