"Gryffindor!" yelled the hat, and my eyes widened. My jaw hung open, and I numbly got off the three legged stool and walked towards the table of the chivalrous. My mind didn't register the scattered whisperings from around the Great Hall, whisperings of the people who, no doubt, recognized my surname. Elliot. My entire family had been in Slytherin, much like the Malfoys, or the Blacks. Mind you, Slytherin wasn't the only thing we had in common with the Malfoys. During the first Wizarding War, my parents fought on the side of You-Know-Who, but come the downfall of the Dark Lord, were never arrested, due to lack of evidence and a very good lawyer. That didn't stop rumours about my family from spreading, and the family name was consequently dragged through the mud.

So, when I was sorted into Gryffindor, I was confused and scared: I had been tossed into the lions' den; quite literally.

I reflected on my early school years as I walked around the campsite of the Quidditch world cup, seeing my Hogwarts classmates around. The first couple of months I had very few people to talk to, the people in my house were constantly wary of me, because of my name, and those who weren't afraid or scornful of it were in Slytherin: and there was no chance of friendship springing up over there. It was like my housemates constantly expected me to jeer at a Muggleborn, or scoff at a blood traitor.

I never did.

I wasn't very clear in my own head at that time on my stance regarding blood, I had all these notions in my mind, but they didn't run with what I saw. The muggleborns were just as good at spells as I was, many a times better, and many of the other purebloods around the school didn't seem to have a problem with that, and they weren't labelled as disgraces.

So I began to open up to some of my classmates; Hermione was especially nice, as was Parvati Patil and Seamus Finnigan.

My parents were displeased, to say the least, but they eventually (after a lot of coercing) they warmed up to it.

"Cassey! Over here!" I looked around the site, searching for the source, and saw nothing but green - I was in the Irish section of the camp, after all. A tap on the shoulder alerted me to the presence of Seamus – looking like a leprechaun. Trying hard to stifle my laughter, I greeted him, and watched as his smile turned into a mock glare at the sight of my Bulgarian flag. Trying to avoid a possible thrity minute argument about Quidditch, I mumbled something about my tent and set off in the other direction.

The actual match was a nail biting one, and despite the fact that Bulgaria lost, I walked out of the stadium feeling elated. In my tent, I lay on the bed, unable to go to sleep, trailing patterns of sparks through the air with my wand.

"Cassey!" I sat up to find my mother at her bed, pulling on a pair of boots.

"What happened? Where are you going?"

"No time for explanations. Just hurry towards the edge of the camp, on the north side. Try to find shelter in the trees."

"What? But where are you –?"

"Just go!" With that, she got up, and with a swish of robes around the flap of the tent, was gone.

I sat up, grabbed my cloak and ran where I was asked to go. Everything seemed normal, quiet… I got to the woods, and moved through the vines and leaves as quickly as I could. Then, I heard the first scream.

I just want to thank my beta, gr8rockstarrox, for editing the first chapter! I hope this rewriten version will get positive reviews! (Constructive criticism is also welcome.)