They say I'm crazy. Insane. Psychotic. They tell me I'm a murderer, a cruel animal, a heartless villain. And maybe I am. Maybe I am crazy. Maybe I am cruel.
But they don't understand.
Those filthy mudbloods and blood-traitors… They don't get it. They don't see the mess they're creating. They think they're so bloody good. So valiant. So… morally upright.
But they're not.
They say they understand love. They say love is equality. They say love is beautiful and wonderful and passionate and generous and warm. But love is not warm, nor is it beautiful, nor is it any one of these things. This is wholly unrealistic. Life is never warm. Life is never beautiful. Life, rather, is cold, dark, and uncertain. And if anyone ever believes otherwise, he is kidding himself.
And if life is so cold, mustn't love be cold? Mustn't love be dark and uncertain? Love is not equality. Love is power. And if one does not possess the utmost power, then love is serving those who have that power, that ability to make things right.
With this in mind, it should be clear to all that only faithful, powerful purebloods understand this definition of life. My husband understands it. My parents understood it. My grandparents understood it. And therefore, I will stand by them. I will serve the Dark Lord for as long as I may live in this world. After all, no one has a better understanding of this meaning of life and love than he.