I'm really not that bad, you know. People have got the wrong end of the stick about me. It makes me sad to think about what people have done in my name, like killing people and stuff. I never wanted to be Master of Infinite Evil or whatever, I wanted to be a nurse. But, my daddy never loved me. He left when I was born and I never heard a word from him until I was seventeen. I met him on the bus, he mentioned his name was Tom Riddle and that he was a huge Michael Jackson fan. I thought, wow, this is my daddy. Finally I've found him. So I told him who I was and he scarpered. I made it my mission for him to love me. Even though I was already albino, I had so much plastic surgery I looked like Michael Jackson, only prettier.

Daddy still wasn't happy. I looked like a freak just for him, and he still took no notice of me. I thought that maybe it was my name, so I changed it. I found an English-French dictionary and looked up some stuff for my new name. Unfortunately, the goon that wrote the dictionary was Russian, and had compiled it by using a Russian-Spanish dictionary, then a Spanish-Japanese dictionary and finally a Japanese-French dictionary. Something got lost in the translation, I thought I'd changed my name to Pansy of the Skies, but turns out Voldemort actually means Flight of Death. I told Daddy my new name, he got scared and ran off again.

I was so sad. I locked myself in my room for a year, with nothing but a record player, but no records, and a bulk box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. When I emerged, needless to say, I was quite insane. Instead of checking myself into St. Mungo's, I went back to my Daddy's house and… killed him… and grandma and grandpa. Some of my old school mates found out about this and started worshiping me and stuff. I tried to stop them, but they thought I was some sort of god and started calling me the Dark Lord. They went around trying to imitate me and killed a bunch of other people. This impressed loads of other people and it started a chain reaction. Soon, there was this whole crap load of people walking around murdering people, saying they were obeying my orders.

Unfortunately, I also got blamed when they got caught. They started saying it wasn't their fault that they had committed murder, it was mine. I made them do it. I tried to explain myself, but soon people didn't want to come anywhere near me. They were afraid of me. It was quite understandable considering how I looked, and that my nose was starting to fall off. They were afraid to say my name, they started calling me You Know Who. Even the self-dubbed Death Eaters were fearful. I tried so hard to reverse it all, get people to stop killing, but nothing worked.

One day, I guess I had too much to drink and was on a bit of a power trip, I went to Godric's Hollow and killed these people. I tried to kill some little kid, but it didn't work and I lost all the power I never wanted in the first place. I couldn't have been happier! Finally, all the killing was over! Ten years went by without incident, until this stupid Quirrell person found me and decided he wanted to share his body with me. I didn't really have much say in the matter, as I was pretty much just a powerless fart. He started rambling on about this Potter kid and how he would die for making me lose power, and how he was going to steal some stone to regenerate me. I tried to object, but he was so mean to me. He abused me by sticking stuff up my nose until I would concede and let him go about his business. He almost succeeded in getting the stone too, but Potter and a man named Snape stopped him and I was free again.

Two more years went by, and I was lured into a false sense of security, feeling that I would never have to suffer through this again. Once more, some loon pretending to be faithful to me and all that found me and started force feeding me snake blood. Fully against my will, I began growing a new body. Then Wormtail, as he called himself, got this cockamamie idea about using my fathers ashes, his hand and that Potter kid to give me back my old body. He started carting me around, telling me that soon he'd be able to perform. I told him there were pills to cure that sort of thing, but he wouldn't listen. In the blink of an eye, I looked like Michael Jackson again and was surrounded by those dim Death Eaters.

And this is where I am today, returned to the monster I was before. But, I'm really just a pansy inside. I never wanted to be mean. I just wanted to be a nurse.