It was in the mid November when he came. He was a tall and ominous looking man, though I could not see his face. He turned to me when I sneezed, but said nothing. I could feel his eyes boring into my own, but yet I couldn't even see his, for his hood covered his entire face. I looked at him, wondering what tragic accident brought on such darkness. He did nothing, as I looked him over from the spot that I was glued to. His clothes were dark, but yet there was no gang symbol on them, so I knew he wasn't from around here. But I did notice something strange. He was wearing what looked like a long, hooded cloak. That would explain the hood covering his face. But what I wanted to see most was his eyes. I was most intrigued by what his eyes looked like. I asked him to lower his hood, but he just shook his head and said that he could not do that, though he didn't say why. I then proceeded to ask him of his name. At that he replied, "If I told you, I would be obliged to kill you." I did not take too kindly to that, seeing as I have never had a death threat before. But he said this in such a caring way, as if it was that he did not wish to kill me, but it was his obligation to for fear of a secrete of some sort getting out. "But why?" I pressed the matter, wishing to see his face and to put a name to the face. "Like I said before, it would be my obligation to kill you if I told you." That was his simple, yet calm answer. It did not seem as if I could make him mad, but I made limits for myself. "Well, can I at least see the face of the man before me?" Once again he shook his head. "If I did either of those things, I would have to kill you. You are to pretty to kill, my pet." I did not understand at the time what he had said, for he had said this in some sort of foreign language that I never heard of before. "I beg your pardon?" I whispered, not wanting to upset him, but he just merely laughed. "Listen to my voice, my pet." He said in that same foreign language. Some how, I knew what that meant, so I listed. "You just need to listen to how my voice flows. Remember it always, and maybe I may spare you when I come into power. But, then again, I may not, seeing as you are a filthy Muggle, and I, a powerful wizard. But no, not just any wizard. I am Lord Voldemort." He said these words and flung off his hood to revile a handsome boy to which the silky voice belonged. His hair was midnight black, and beautiful dark brown eyes. "You are Lord Voldemort? What is your real name?" He hissed and pulled out, what I later found out, his wand. "I never say my filthy name. Don't you ever forget that! Crucio!" I then found myself writhing in pain. He stepped up to my side and pointed his wand at me. I did not hear the words he said to release the curse that he had put on me. "I could kill you, right here, right now. But no. You may come in handy if I ever need you again, my pet. Remember this; you have pledged your ligancy with your Lord Voldemort. A vow that can never be broken. You are mine, my pet. Forever. If I need you again, you will know when I am here, either in this body or a new one. You will never die, my pet. Never age. You will stay the same way, hiding form your kind and mine. You will only show your pretty face when I want to see you. Do I make myself clear, Stacy?" All I could do was nod, seeing as I was still in pain. "Good girl. I will call on you when I need you. In the mean time, why not go and live with the Dursleys' at Number 4, Privet Drive. They will take you in." In an instant we were where he wanted me to live. "Go, now. Knock on the door." I did what he said, but I do not remember anything after that. That is how I became a follower of Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, murderer, assassin, and torturer. He is the greatest that I have ever known in a wizard or human, and I love my Lord for that.