June XX, 1997
Of course I will destroy this. My thoughts barely belong to myself, let alone to a piece of parchment. But I must… I must put this down. So that I can see it, so that it can somehow seem real.
I have just killed Albus Dumbledore. He begged me; he whispered "please", and I hate him for it.
And Potter… that stupid, ignorant boy, how dare he call me a coward? If he only knew what I've done. What I've promised to do. And how his precious Dumbledore has betrayed us all.
Albus. I hate him. I hate him because the last part of Lily worth protecting is still going to die. And as if that were not enough, he has forced me to be the one to make sure it happens.
He has used me. He has taken the best of me and twisted it so darkly that I cannot remember why I promised to help him in the first place. What right did he have to ask this of me? Did he think my soul so dark already that another murder cannot make much difference? Go on, Albus, paint it darker. Let them hang me high as a villain and condemn me in front of the world, like they always have.
And yet… I have never cared before. Why should I care now?
Because that murderer isn't me. It has never been me, but no one has ever seen past what they've wanted to see. There has only ever been one person that has ever understood me, that has cared about what other people thought. And she's gone. She's gone. All that remains of her is Potter… Potter, and those damned green eyes.
Those eyes that haunt me.
Damn you, Albus Dumbledore! For putting me in this impossible position! For making me a murderer and a traitor! For giving me a reason to live… and then making me kill it. And he will not be here to see it, he will not have to live with it. Because I've already done away with him.
Too soon, I will stand in front of the Dark Lord, and I will triumph over Albus' death. It will not be hard to convince him of my rage. Even now, hate courses through me like firewhiskey. And he will praise me and glorify me for killing the old man. But what can he offer me besides hollow words and empty pride?
The only thing I've ever wanted, he has killed. And her son… Harry Potter. He will die too.
There is nothing left. Why even walk this path that is ahead of me?
SS