Draco watched as Harry Potter approached the Gryffindor table. They welcomed him with open arms, too eager to have the famous young wizard in their house. They were making a ruckus, applauding and cheering as if the boy had defeated the Dark Lord right there in front of them. They looked smug and proud; like having a famous wizard in your house makes you better than the other houses. It certainly didn't make them better than the Slytherins. Not even close. Ha, the joke was on them. Harry Potter clearly had no idea how the wizarding world worked, and he would certainly knock the Gryffindors down a few pegs. Not that they were even close to where Slytherin was. Their whole house was full of muggleborns and blood traitors. Draco wasn't sure that there was even one pureblooded wizard in that house. Probably not.
It was clear that the Slytherins would triumph anyway; it wasn't like they needed him. They would win the House Cup and stump all the other houses in Quidditch with ease. Draco had only given Harry Potter the opportunity to choose the right side, the winning side. Clearly, he had chosen wrong. Harry Potter, the conqueror of the Dark Lord, had chosen the side that was destined to fail.
Draco glowered at him, the fool had no idea what he had done when he had turned down Draco's offer. He had made it clear where his allies lie, with the treacherous blood traitors, the Weasleys. Their blood was as impure as a wizard family's blood could be. What was next, conspiring against the wizarding world with the muggles?
Potter would regret the day that he had turned down his hand, be would make sure of it. He would make Potter's as much of a living hell as he could. The same for the Weasley. Why the things he heard about the pathetic family... His father had said that they deserved to be at Hogwarts almost as less as muggleborns did! Or mudbloods, as his father called them. Mudbloods was a better word for them. It revealed how truly filthy they were.
Draco watched as the feast had begun, still fuming with rage. He sighed and grabbed a plate. He began to socialize with others at his own table. He smiled and laughed when someone said something humorous; he sneered when someone said something that suggested they didn't have an inkling of intelligence. Yet, Harry Potter was still on his mind. No matter how hard the Slytherin tried to get him out of his head, he still stayed.
Draco subtly looked over at the Gryffindor table. He ran his eyes over it until they caught who he was looking for. Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the Dark Lord when he was a mere child. The grinning fool had no idea what was coming for him, he had no idea that he had started a war. A war between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin; between someone who grew up knowing magic and someone who had only known magic a month ago.
Draco leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. He narrowed his eyes and sneered in Harry Potter's direction. It was no contest. Draco was fully confident that he could win his war with Harry Potter. You better be ready, Potter, because I'm coming for you.