My life had always been normal. I was a normal teenage witch, who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I studied Transfiguration, DADA, Potions and all the other normal wizarding subjects. I excelled in them, I enjoyed them, I loved the teachers who taught them – but one subject, Muggle Studies, was always of great interest to me. I always had a strong connection with my father, despite his muggle status. For the first 11 years of my life, we were inseparable. We would picnic, and laugh, and play together – and every night he would read me the muggle fairy tales he grew up with. He taught me everything I knew: my morals, my interests. Occasionally, my mother would join us on our picnics, but these usually turned out awkward and we often went home early. In fact, it wasn't until I received my Hogwarts letter in my sixth muggle schooling year, that we had something to talk about. Through my seven years at Hogwarts, I found out who I was. Shaped by the morals embedded in me from the youngest age by my father, I became a witch who was awfully fond of muggles and their way of life. I believed wizards were not superior to muggles, but we were equal. And it was these ideas which led to my death. For four years, I taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts until, in 1997, I was kidnapped by Lord Voldemort – formerly Tom Riddle, an orphaned Half-Blooded wizard. As I was taken into a huge manor, and hung upside from the ceiling, I pleaded with the infamous dark wizard. He hated me because I believed in the mixing of muggle blood and wizard blood. Yet he would not be here if it weren't for that very reason. I pleaded, trying to appeal to the vulnerable, scared child who lived within the monster he had created to hide who he was. But his soul was not whole, he had discarded all feelings of love and sympathy. My colleague, Severus, was seated at the table, and I pleaded with him desperately, but with no prevail. My last thought was of my father. I thought of who he was, and the morals he had passed onto me. I wondered whether I wished he had been a wizard. The thought was dismissed from my mind as I realised that, without my beliefs, I would be just as bad as the man who sat before me. He raised his wand at me with a flourish, and shouted a few words lazily. There was a flash of green light, and I knew no more.
