Harry Potter Book 1 from Draco Malfoy’s POV

I gasped when I first heard about the survival of that Potter boy. Such a strong wizard to withstand Lord Voldemort. Even though he grew up with muggles, I looked forward to seeing him. He wasn’t a purebred, as I had hoped, but I still went to bed happy with my search for a new friend.

As I waved goodbye to my egotistical father, I couldn’t help but notice a familiar face, a sickly pale face. The skinny boy from Diagon Alley. Accompanied by him was Weasley, the big loser. I hoped to get to know Potter better, so on the train, I approached him, hoping to take back a friend with me.

Despite my efforts, he walked away and left me on my own. I felt stupid standing there, getting rejected by a pale, scanty boy. A pang of disappointment rushed over me. I tried to look like I was unbothered, but deep down I wondered what I had done wrong. It might have been the snide comments I made about him, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty.

The sorting hat came, and as proud as I was of my Slytherin past and purebred ancestors, I walked away knowing I might never be friends with the skinny boy again. Rage surfaced as jealousy burned through my face. How could a skimpy ginger like Weasley walk away with Harry Potter? I sulked away as Harry and Ron skipped away together.

My favor towards him faded instantly as I turned my disappointment into spite. I sat all alone during dinner, plotting how to make the next few years of his life pure misery.

Even with all of the death glares I got, I looked forward to one thing: Quidditch. I had even convinced my dad to buy me a new broom to show off my flying skills. Of course, Harry had to be the best at it. When he was supposed to get in trouble, he was awarded a first-year player on the Gryffindor team. I felt like all of his fame and glory had just been handed down to him because of his dead parents.