My mother never told me much about my father. That doesn't mean I never knew him, or knew about him. It only meant that after his death my mother didn't know enough to tell me all there was to know. He never lived with us. He was far too busy to be a live-at-home sort of father, and he was much too infamous to be there for me all of the time. I didn't mind though.

My mother would always tell me how alike him and I were, about how our tempers were both short, or that I had his eyes. From what I did know about him through my childhood, I do have to admit that we did share a similar personality and great powers.

I remember seeing him as a child. Not as often as it could have been, but enough to at least be able to say that he was in my life. He would bring money for support in person, and normally come sometime around my birthday. There were times he would just show up out of the blue, or even send me gifts. He brought me my wand and several spell books, tarot cards and a crystal ball, medieval torture tools, daggers, and a few swords were among my favorites. One time when I was very young, he even brought me a snake that spoke to me (though I did later figure out that it was I speaking Parstletongue, rather than the snake speaking English). I did receive most of them, especially the weapons in the few years after his death by my mother's friend Bellatrix, whom was her maid of honor at the very small

I was around two-years old when my mother finally got word about my Father's death. I can still remember her hysteric shrieking and the long-haired blond man holding her up so as her face didn't smack onto the white marble floor of the foyer of our New England home. You can't forget something like that, even if you were very young when it happened.

"Emma..." he whispered to her, trying to calm her. "You'll wake your daughter..."

He obviously didn't see me watching from between the railings from the upstairs.

"Lucius, please...." Her voice was quiet, but shaking. "Is he alright?"

"His body is destroyed, but we are doing all we can."

"Bring him back, Lucius! He trusted you and Bellatrix above all others! If anyone can bring him back, you can!"

"Emma have some dignity! You are his companion! You represent him now!"

I saw her head raise some, and her posture straighten. "Companion," her voice sounded venomous. "I am his wife, Lucius! His wife!" She shoved him back some. "You will show me the respect that you showed him! You will address me for what I am!"

He lowered his head in a slight bow. "I am sorry, my Lady..."

That was all I had to go on, a few names of old family friends and supporters.

In the years that followed his death, I became more and more like him. Short-tempered, malevolent, dark, all in his honor. I'd kill the little brat that took my father from me.

It started with my mother's cat. It would walk around my room and spit up hairballs and piss all over my things. I put up with it for three months. One day, when I was about three, I lured him into the bathroom, and drown him. A few months after that I was catching birds and cutting the heads off.

My killing sprees got more numerous and more violent. I was pouring over the spell books and practicing an animals that wandered into my yard, or even the random muggle that I could lure back without my mother knowing. She wasn't a sympathizer, thank Merlin, but she did not want her only child going to prison or juvenile hall.

When I turned 14 I started to receive spell books again, at an almost rapid pace. I had no idea where they were coming from, but I didn't object or question. These new spells were intense, violent, and I loved every single one of them.

It was a shock to me, the day I came home and found a thick, black leather-bound book with a large skull and snake on the front of it. On top of it was a folded piece of paper, with my name scribbled in green ink.

I picked it up carefully, not wanting to ruin it.

My daughter,

It has been almost 15 years since I have been in your life. How I have missed training you. I'm sure you have become a magnificent witch by now, just like your mother. I look forward to coming back into your life.

I have returned, to continue what I started 16 years ago. I was waiting to see if was safe to bring you to England to finish training you in my ways.

Study hard my Layla. You are my daughter in every way.

Your father,

Tomas M. Riddle