A short, rather un-structured poem, from the point-of-view of a pure-blood witch.

11-year-old Lady Voldemorte Riddle can't figure out why everyone hates her in this newly discovered wizarding world, and the only one willing to tell her anything is a rat-man who tells the most repulsive stories. **This is a Voldemort's-got-a-kid fic. Implied Bellamort. Get ready for lots of Wormtail hating and lots of Parseltongue. Set in PoA. Read and review.**

"There are many stories left untold, the result of a flaw in the tale itself, or a forced silence, and very rarely the tale in question being overshadowed by another. Some might say that the life of Dela Riddle was all those things..." In which a prisoner of Azkaban is loose, and Dela Riddle enters the wonderful wizarding world. (this story will follow her through her first year.)