Today: October 1, 1996
I kept a diary long ago, so today I decided to remember the tradition.

I am proud of my accomplishments. With unrivaled powers I alone hold complete supremacy over this world I call a home. There is not a child anywhere that does not hear my name and tremble. Nor is there an elder person who does not shake at the mention of my past deeds. I have numerous servants who would risk everything for me, yet it is not enough. I have glory and I have fame. I am the greatest wizard that ever lived. I am the worst. Everything that I venture to achieve, I achieve with great success. I have ended the lives of most of my enemies, using fear as my great ally. My conquests have ended dreams and killed hopes. I force people to whisper rather than speak. As I fight to raise myself above the rest of humanity I grow less and less human.

I am a force. I am no mere name. I am the monster under the bed, the creak of the stairs, and the whimper of a newborn baby. With pride I distance myself from others, the better to remain unharmed. I can move mountains with the flick of my wand, while draining oceans with the choice of my words. I am everything in this world, and yet I am nothing. I am the cold in a tub of pure heat; I am the heat in a pool filled with snow. That is me.

Life. What does it mean to live if you cannot die? Am I alive or am I merely here? As a boy of sixteen I knew where I was going and what I would do. Challenges gave me exhilaration, while defeats spurred me on. I believed that everyone’s aspirations mirrored my own. Maybe they did, I do not know. As I felt pressured and cornered I began to pick them off one by one. The hanging of one man, I realized, results in the death of his closest relatives. To the world they may seem intact, but inside they are torn apart.

I understand that love is simply fiction. A lie to induce hope into the lives of young children. This realization killed me at an early age. As I grew strong once again I wanted to help my fellows. Only through enlightenment could they understand the true workings of this world. I preached and was met with enthusiasm from my Slytherin peers, yet the more stubborn, the more naive would not hear of it.

Ever looked in a mirror and found that it was empty?
I have.

And I don’t mean because of an invisibility cloak or spell. With an invisibility cloak one still knows that they exist. They can feel their organs pulsing while they sneak around unseen and unnoticed.

Many months back I stared at a pale man with red eyes in the mirror. This is not me and it never will be. I was once young and envied. I am not that cruel creature that stared back at me in that mirror. I am cruel yes, but I am deceitful. I use trickery and treachery to fool my enemies. I take great pleasure knowing that I have the world doing my bidding, yet they are almost unaware. No more, however. I can no longer look into the trusting eyes of people who believe in my righteousness. It was not the acceptance that I rejoiced in. I have already stated that. It was the look of betrayal that they harbored in their eyes when the time came. The shock and excitement could feed my adrenaline for days.

~~--~~--~~

May 1942
“Tom…” Slughorn’s gaze wavered as he stared into my dark eyes. His eyes crinkled. I could tell that he was examining the reddish tinge that my eyes had taken on since the first killing. I could almost see my reflection in the glistening sweat that spattered his forehead. “Tom we need to speak…ahh, of last night’s events.”

My face cracked into a wide grin. “Boys, give me a moment alone with Professor,” I commanded. Mulciber and Nott grunted as they descended the steps into the great hall. Although they had mighty thick skulls, they had deduced that I was worked up about something. Both trembling cowards at heart they would never have dared asked me.

Slughorn and I stepped into his office. He clutched my shoulders and I held his gaze firm. I couldn’t resist allowing my lip to twinge. After last night’s good news, nothing could keep my spirits down.

Slughorn took a deep breath. “Tom, what I told you last night was wrong.” After I had asked, he had told me about the glorious way in which I could remain invincible. I would never have to die with these ----- I will not write down the name. For they are the secret to my success and no matter how long I burn this diary after I am finished writing in it, I will not take chances.

“I stepped out of line and I debated informing authorities of our little conversation,” Slughorn continued.

I raised my eyebrows.

“You know I wouldn’t do that, but…” Slughorn was definitely steeling himself to ask me the big question. “What are you planning to do with this information? Tell me, Tom.” He let go of my shoulders and began to pace the room. He was huffing and puffing.

“Nothing, sir. I was merely wondering…”

“Bogus. If you will not tell me, Tom, you leave me no options.” He drew out his wand and aimed a shaking hand at me. “Obliviate!”

I deflected the spell with a flick of my own wand. I had been clutching it inside my robes in case Slughorn tried anything.

“You gave me information that is crucial to my success. You will not stop me, nor will you be able to take back what you said. Memories are not like people, sir. They do not come and go. They do not die. Let me rephrase myself. Weak people die. Mark my words. The powerful and cunning will endure forever.”

The betrayal in his eyes... The fear of the monster he had created left me lighter than air for the rest of the day. I wanted more. I couldn’t stop. The power and control over others was overpowering. Who needed Rosier, Dolahov, Mulciber, and Nott? I had the power to control the teachers, the school, the universe.

~~--~~--~~

Today
Many years later, that thrill has all but left. The killing and torture leave only seconds of pride. Minutes go by and my dreary life keeps on turning. Deception has become monotonous. My Death Eaters do not question and they do not deceive. My grasp is so strong on this world that I cannot be rivaled. Dumbledore of course has tried but through his streamline battles and meek ‘army’ he is no match for the power of Lord Voldemort.

Just weeks ago, I gazed into an ancient and cherished mirror. I have been in its presence many times throughout my life, but I have only stopped to admire it on two occasions.

~~--~~--~~

October 1938
One never knew what they would find on a late night journey through Hogwarts. Most students feared the dark corridors with their candles extinguished. I relished in them. The caretaker, Fingel Flume was a lazy old man who was nasty yet easily outwitted. Only in my second year, I already knew that Fingel could be persuaded of urgent situations or sleepwalking if caught. Mostly, I just used the secret passageways to get around. He was oblivious of Hogwarts’ many glorious secrets.

On one of those magnificent nights as the moon shone in through the window I decided to explore the fourth floor. Large mahogany doors gleamed in the moonlight. We had been instructed not to enter these doors, although Professor Dippet’s face had had a gleam of mischief as he had announced this to the school. It was painfully obvious that whatever was behind these doors was not for students’ eyes.

“Alohamora,” I whispered. Using my weight as leverage, I heaved and the door slowly twisted outward. A large gust of stale air escaped through the opening. I pushed onward wondering what I would find inside. The room was devoid of any windows set into the walls. One lone candle provided a flickering glow that did nothing to illuminate the room. I could feel my pupils enlarging until I became accustomed to the darkness.

I shut the door behind me and began to walk the length of the room. There were multiple columns filling the room. They were dark grey and made out of a cool stone. Each column had a different Latin saying inscribed at the top. I translated “No timeam cinum mortui, silva est magna vīlla.” I do not fear the ash of death; the forest is a great house. “Natura est mi stragulum, nox est mi operculum.” Nature is my blanket; night is my cover. Rubbish. Foolish sayings of old men who wish to believe that death is just another adventure. They are mistaken. Death is the end to it all. The last act of pain that will leave us unremembered and unimportant.

Past the many columns was a great mirror. Its varnish was shining gold. It had been polished recently, for the dust that had settled throughout this room was not to be seen on the mirror. The top of the mirror read “Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.” This I could not understand. It was definitely not Latin, for I had somewhat of a knack for that language. We learned it in the orphanage so that we could decipher the New Testament, though it came in very useful for spells and later spell writing.

For the first and last time in my life, my breath caught in my throat. There I was, no longer a small second year boy. I was one of the most respected men in the world. I could see my army of followers, far greater than all the students in my house. I could read the fear in their eyes and see the destruction that had been created. It was hundreds of years into the future. I was eternal.

Although I could not hear them, the name ‘Lord Voldemort’ was on the lips of many of my supporters. “I am Lord Voldemort… I am Lord Voldemort…” It took me until morning to realize the shift of letters. “Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort.”

~~--~~--~~

September 1996
The next time I saw the mirror of Erised was mere weeks ago. As I explored the abandoned house of an old teacher of mine, to my surprise I found it lurking in one of the old closets. After removing the ragged tarp from the mirror, and dusting off the edges I found that it was just as magnificent as it had been those many years before.

I took a deep breath and after ordering my followers out of the room, I gazed into the depths of the mirror. I was nowhere to be found. A dark void filled the length of the mirror. I gazed up at the ceiling, finding it still intact though quite decrepit. I looked back in the mirror, unbelieving.

I called out to Lestrange. Rodolphus came running in. His face was pale and his eyes were bloodshot. He was unable to walk in a straight line. I am not a patient man and as he stumbled I became annoyed.

“Lestrange,” I hissed. “You have been drinking again.”

“No sirrr,” he slurred. “I…”

“Just look into this mirror. Tell me what you see.” He told of wealth. He spoke of power. He even spoke of love. I kicked him out of the room. Even more disgusted with myself than I was of him.

~~--~~--~~

Today
This mirror provided me insight into my soul. The knowledge this mirror showed me is slowly destroying me. It is the knowledge that hopes, dreams, and aspirations are none to be found; yet a future seems imminent and unavoidable. My future will reign forever and I will be the unwilling participant.

I do not know what I require for this life to be worthwhile, nor do I know why I feel so much pain. It is not love that I yearn for. No, scorn the word. I do not search for acceptance either. I find joy in solitude while annoyance in company.

I do not know what drove me to do it, just like I do not know what drove me to start this diary. I am living out an empty future. I am all-powerful. I can interpret the minds of others. I can control them. I can kill them. In all these acts of power and cruelty, in my numerous triumphs, I have lost myself.

Regulus Black is dead. I did not kill him, though he died serving me. He was fearful as he drank the first sips of liquid. Though after five or six cups he was no longer himself. I am thankful, although he did it merely out of fear. He was a wretched man, now doomed to haunt the lake, guard my soul that has now been removed.

Why am I destroying myself? Destroying my lifelong dream? I do not know. But I know it is what I want and it is my new mission. I will be the end to this army. It will be the epitome of all cunning and crafty things to do. I will be remembered as the smartest most unconceivable man… no, spirit, to ever live.

I signed the note with a code. I signed it in a tongue that not many understand any longer. Latin, the tongue of the gods.
Riddle thanks Black.
Riddleus Ageret Blackum.
RAB

“Incendio”