Everyone piles off the train as if they had never been to Hogwarts before. It was understandable for the first years, because, well, they HAD never been to Hogwarts before. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle saunter off the train; they're really hungry. As usual. As they are getting into their carriages, the ones that magically pull themselves, Draco happens to catch a glimpse of flaming red hair. It must have been a Weasley. Therefore, Harry was most likely around. He never understood why Harry hung out with those Weasleys before. They aren't even worthy enough to be called wizards or a witches. Well, maybe more so than that Hermione Granger. The filthy mudblood.

Ah, yes. The Great Hall. It was such a wonderful and beautiful place. Yearly routines are conducted: the sorting of the first years- it was always fun to watch the children scared senseless, (Draco got much pleasure out of that.) the new rules told by Headmaster Dumbledore, the introduction of new teachers, if any, (This year's looked promising: Snape as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and a man named Slughorn, that Dumbledore personally knew, as the Potions professor.) and the feast! Dumbledore clapped his magical hands and boom. Food. Everyone starts to stuff their faces to the point where you honestly thought they were possessed. But, that would be just weird. Draco kept noticing that Potter was glancing at him from time to time. He just knew that it was not because Harry liked him, but it was always enjoyable to hope, right? He had a feeling that Potter knew of something. Something about his task. Maybe not all of the details, but Potter definitely had suspicions. Draco knew it. He whispered to Crabbe and Goyle that he had manners to discuss with them. They didn't even hear him.

"Crabbe! Goyle!"

That got their attention. They were listening now. It took long enough. Why must they always be shoving food in their damn mouths? Idiots.

"I need to speak with both of you, later on, in the Common Room about certain plans," Draco half whispered, half spoke normally.

Crabbe sat dumb-founded until Goyle leaned in and whispered in his ear to explain. The light bulb went off over Crabbe's head.

They didn't say another word until after dinner was finished.