You know who I hate? James Potter. Everyone says no, you don't hate James, how could you, you never met the man. But they're all wrong. They don't understand what happened. They say, that I hate Voldemort, but, again, they are wrong.

You see, Dumbledor made a mistake, a crucial mistake, as it happens. When I was in my forth year, at the end after all that bother with the goblet of fire, when Dumbledor made me tell it all..... he let his eyes glint, when he heard that Voldemort could touch me. The second error, was presuming I hadn't noticed.

Now that may all seem very innocent, but, it isn't. Dumbledor got me curios. I researched all I could into that kind of magic. Then I stumbled across a note, left by another student in one of the books. The note was old, about thirty five years old. It was a love letter to Lily. It did not take long to work out that it was from James.... obvious really. However, it mentioned something strange. "Though children, be it not your fate to bear, I would love you always ...." That didn't make sense, how could Lily been infertile, and given birth to me?

Then I found Dumbledor had made another mistake. I looked through family trees, and found hidden, the Potter one. I still don't know if that was deliberate on Dumbledor's part, to let me see that, then.

I'll shorten the story, cut out the details....

In the end, with Hermione's help, I discovered that Voldemort was not Tom Riddle, that was Dumbledor. It doesn't make sense that Dumbledor was Tom Riddle.... he wasn't..... its hard to explain, Tom Riddle was someone Dumbledor made, thats as close as I can get. Well, this left the question of who was Voldemort. I went back to the Potter family tree again, and I saw that James had a brother, however this boy, Henry had died at the age of seventeen before James had been born.

So, after further research, and some guesswork (which was later proved right) I found who Voldemort really was. Henry. Voldemort was a name he had found scratched on a wall. With Lily ruled out as my mother, I went in search of who else it could have been. I looked into James' school years..... everything, to find out who my mother might have been. No clues. Lily had been the only girl in his life.

Out of curiosity I suppose, I looked at Henry's school life. Then I found something. Narcissa, wife of Lucius, had never known Lucius inside school. Narcissa was Henry's girlfriend. I don't know when, but some time, they had a child. A boy. Me.

Then it dawned on me, I was the son of Voldemort and the half-brother of Draco. The only safe person who knew was Narcissa. So I sent an owl. I coded it, it wasn't a very hard code, but Narcissa replied in the same code.

Narcissa had found she was pregnant, knowing that Voldemort (as he was now called) wouldn't want a child, she gave him to James. James made the whole thing legal somehow. Narcissa loved me, as a baby. Then the war had begun. To late Narcissa discovered that she hadn't hidden me well enough from Voldemort. Voldemort tracked me down, he was afraid I would become a rival to him. He tried to kill me.

The rest of the story was true. Dumbledor had jut put everything together incorrectly. When the final piece fell into place, I faked my own suicide. I don't think Dumbledor was fooled by that. Everyone else was. So Dumbledor went along with it, presuming that whatever my intentions were, they were in the end good.

The next day I met my father. I greeted him cautiously. It seemed to confuse him that after all the years of running, I would come to him willingly. I explained what I knew. Then I explained why I came, I can still remember the exact words. "Lord, Father. I have made this decision, to come before you, not out of some strange form of martyrdom I was wishing for. After learning all I have, I decided that I couldn't live in that. There was only one other place I could go. I took a leaf out of Henry's book. You could now do what you have been waiting seventeen years to finish, or, I could join you." I finished my monologue with a long, low bow.

I stepped back, and waited for the two short words in the cold hard voice. They didn't come. Instead of his wand, he puled out a delicate silver stamp. I saw the image on it.


Many years have passed since that day. Once they were suspicious of this suddenly trusted unknown man, but blood is thicker than water. I have a new name now, Harry Potter, the boy who lived is dead, I am Pyralis, the greatest Death Eater, most loyal to my Father.