Even on a bad day, my thirst for knowledge is unconquerable. Though I may feel vulnerable and weak at every turn, the fact remains, I am your child. Maybe I don't have your eyes, or your greasy black hair, or your long, nimble fingers. But perhaps, what is important is that I have your brain, your quick intellect and even your ruthless wit. I'm yours. Yours, with wild frizzy brown hair, my wild curls grasping to eat everything up, just like our mutual search for knowledge. Yes, I have your sharp tongue as I have mentioned before but my anger is checked, it is there, powerful and greedy, and hidden away carefully. We both strive for the compliance of those around us and you openly, me, not so obviously. And I am outwardly yearning for academic compliments. I know that you secretly share my wish for the academic recognition of those around you, but you don't want the world to know. So that even on a bad day, when I am here thinking about you, and all that you have put me through all these years, I realize that we are so the same and so different and I wouldn't want it any other way.

Everything I know about my father comes from the journal and letters that my mother left me. What I had read scared me. My father, appeared to be a cold, heartless, brilliant man that enjoyed terrorizing those around him. What am I to do when I arrive at Hogwarts School of Magic? I long ago came to the conclusion that he knows nothing of me. If he did, I am sure that I would be living with him, living a different life, in a different place.

The train ride was exciting, I met some interesting people, but overall, not anyone that I can identify with. But I do admit that I wasn't actually focused on those on the train with me. I was scared, worrying about the terrifying thoughts racing through my mind at the idea that tonight, there was a chance that I would meet my father and he wouldn't even know I was his daughter. Although I have always wanted to meet him, I was terrified and from what I had heard people saying I had every right to be. In an empty compartment I change into my robes, but before leaving I take out his picture, the only one I have of my mother and him, the only one that arrived when her belongings ended up on our doorstep the same day I got my Hogwarts acceptance letter. I admit he wasn't a handsome man, but there was something about him that made me look at him, keep my eyes fixed upon his, funny, I thought to myself, it's as though I am having a staring contest with a picture. A moving picture none the less I thought snorting. Someone's at the door now. Putting the picture away I make my way off the train and on to a new life in a new world.