My name is Magicka Quillius.
My first year at Hogwarts I was sorted into Slytherin house.
I had it hard there.
During the First Wizarding War, my father served the Dark Lord, as all of my other house mates' parents did, but he didn't always agree with what the Dark Lord did. One time, towards the end of the war, my father gave up information about a few Death Eaters who were captured and killed.
Well, all but one.
Lucius Malfoy got out of the attack, and he now hates my father with a passion.
Soon after the war, Lucius tracked my father down and tried to kill him. My father had to flee England, and it was a few years later that my father could come back to England. Since then, the Malfoys and the Quilliuses have hated each other.
It doesn't help that I'm in the same house as Luscius Malfoy's son.
Draco Malfoy was one of my "tormentors." On the outside, we hate each other. But, secretly, we're dying to get a simple word from each other.
Everyone thinks that the reason I call him my tormentor was because he always picked on me. He really never talked to me. But I was dying to talk to him.
For years since we were sorted into the same house we had met up in secret when no one knew. We never really confirmed it to ourselves or to each other, and especially not to anyone else. We just...talked. We were secret friends. Secret friends that desired to be more. And it was killing us.
It's year was the year of the Tri-Wizard tournament.
This year was the year that we knew something needed to change.