Dear diary,
The year is V10 and day 3,652 since the human race has fallen.
It seems just like yesterday that my parents had first dropped me off at that train station in London; when in reality that was more then ten years ago. I know that I shouldn't be writing this, that being caught could cost me my life, but I feel that later generations should know about the events that led up to the day He took over.
You see diary, I'm not completely human myself.
Like every other being in the universe, there exists an original entity. Now, this being has what is called a subspecies, a close relative of that being. These two creatures are biologically compatible, and often create a new creature which is then termed as a hybrid.
My parents did not know that somewhere down the line one or more of their ancestors had been nonhuman, that their genetics would be permanently altered in the future. They displayed no outward sign of being anything more then a couple of mundane dentists, the only supernatural being in their lives were the fiction novels my father would collect years before my birth.
I was born at St. Clementines Hospital, not far off from Berkhamsted on a rainy September night. My father had apparently fainted in the delivery room upon my birth, something my mother never failed to tease him about in their many years together.
It has been almost a full ten years since I erased their memories of ever having me.
My dear diary, we live in a world full of magic and wonder. It surrounds us everyday, and holds us close in its warm embrace.
I first learned that I was a witch when an older woman came knocking at my parents front door. She was in that time of her life where everyone could not help but stare at her and know that she had lived a long and full life. Her emerald green eyes shone with a thousand secrets, the lines seemingly etched into her face reminded you of your own grandmother. But the way her hands came together as she took a seat in our parlor told me that she was preparing to tell us something full of importance.
The summer had barely ended when I found myself before a train that would take me, and several other hundred or so students to this new world full of the unknown.
My parents took everything in stride, year after year. At first, it seemed to them that I was in constant danger, sending out constant letters after learning about the newest creature or what-have-you that could have ended my life. Friends were made, and enemies were despised.
I erased my parents memories shortly after I finished my sixth term at school. A war had been brewing between those past few years, something my friends and I were key players in. We had been taught by the deaths of those closest to us that not everything would go as planned.
The night He took over, was the day that our savior, our friend, my brother, died.
Hogwarts had been captured as easily as one would take out a pawn in a game of chess. I didn't believe it when they said he was dead, many of us didn't. But when the Death Eaters paraded his broken, and defeated body around like a toy did I know that we were doomed.
Those of us that fought back were quickly defeated, our spells and charms were powerless as our hope began to dwindle. Our school, our home, was raided and every single child inside was dragged out screaming and kicking. We were bound together in groups, from the most worthy of killing to those who were not.
I still remember the cruel, cackling like laugh of Bellatrix LeStrange as she patrolled around us; but she was not the only warden to our hell. Werewolves stalked the Forbidden Forest day and night, they were the first mutations that He had first experimented on.
Shortly after we were captured, I found myself along with my few surviving friends running. I don't know how we got away exactly, it wasn't until weeks later did I find out that George had pulled one last prank...
I don't know how long I have left, diary...
Every night I dream about them, those who have died and those who are still, hopefully, alive. I have nightmares about those who are looking for me, who are in charged to take me back to Him.
There was wide spread panic in the Muggle world after they learned that they were not the only ones who lived on this Earth. All attempts at rebellion were stopped almost as soon as they began; world leaders gathered together to find out who exactly had created us, and why.
Their gathering made it all that much easier for Him to kill them all.
Within a year Muggle production had doubled, even tripled from the highest point of their own lead. Corrupt governments were improved, and poverty had all but vanished. People were working to their fullest potential and their cities prospered.
That is not to say, diary, that everything was better then before.
Under the surface a revolution was forming. Those of us who were traitors to the cause were hunted down and killed on the spot; but those of us with different blood, Mudbloods they called us, were rounded up and taken back to His headquarters.
Mudbloods, diary, are the hybrids created when a Muggle and a wizard come together and have a child. Sometimes these children display no hints at wielding any magical powers.
For you see, I am a Mudblood, diary, and number one on the most wanted list.