Lost In Riddles

Her Father A tyrant, a dictator, know by all and feared by many. A truly terrible heritage it is to be the daughter of Lord Voldemort. Romany Riddle.After 26 wizarding school experiences and the terrible taunts and treatment at Beauxbatons. It only seems sensible to move school, somewhere permanent and practical. But Hogwarts? The sorting hat, something Romany had feared as it was inevitable she'd be in Slytherin of course, and everyone knew it. Apparently not as she is placed in Gryffindor. Of course her DADA teacher would turn out to be a Death eater, and he’d constantly harass her.In the midst of this as The Triwizard Tournament approaches, of course one of the schools they’d be competing against would be Beauxbatons. Obviously meaning all the horrible bints would appear and try to charm her crush Cedric Diggory who clearly was only interested in one person. And lastly it was typical she’d become dangerously close to Harry Potter.

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1. Prologue

They tell you the best stories can be told in thirty seconds, but what does that mean exactly? A story is only valid if it can be condensed into a mere thirty seconds? Or perhaps the best stories only physically span thirty seconds? Is any story that can’t be told in thirty seconds simply not valid?

I like to think my story is valid, but in no way could it be condensed into a sheer thirty seconds; maybe ten minutes at a push. But I feel no need to condense a good story, it simply does it no justice and with my story being so personal, something I wouldn’t share with anyone but a casual stranger. I feel I should tell it in its full flight, since you have read this far I’m guessing that you might want to as well.

It’s not a sad story, a happy story, a wild story or even an average story; it’s my story. And before I can continue from here to face the destiny laden out for me, I need to appreciate what once was and look back to what put me here, how did I get here? What is here?

The only way I could perhaps condense my tale into something representing anything of thirty seconds, is a second chance. My story is of the small privilege of a second chance, and carries the allegory of how first impressions are not at all truthful. 

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