Dear Diary,
I was having dinner with Wormtail when I had the ingenious idea of recruiting allies in my eternal battle against all Good in this world. And who would be more efficient, I thought, than the mighty, awe-inspiring sentinels of Azkaban, the Dementors?
First thing next morning, I dragged the protesting Wormtail and Lucius to the next Muggle shipping company and hired a boat to sail to Azkaban Island. They were nagging me the whole time to turn back, blabbing about fear, being Kissed and losing their souls. I didn't see their problem. They couldn't dampen my high spirits; I was filled with triumph.
Unluckily, that changed when that dratted, idiotic figure of a Dementor appeared in front of me and spoilt everything. I suddenly got such a strange feeling: My hands became sweaty, my knees began to tremble and my teeth started to chatter (later Wormtail explained to me that it was called 'fear'). Then those awful memories preyed on me: Wormtail refusing my invitation to a tea-dance; Wormtail being mad at me because his new magic-hand was faulty and kept hitting him on the head; my disappointment when I learned that I hadn't won the Witch Weekly Beauty Contest after all... It was more than anyone could take. I got a mad urge to squeak loudly and run away, which I eventually did.
I didn't care about anything. I lifted my robes and dashed off at top speed. Not even my Death Eaters' laughter could stop me, when they saw that I was wearing shorts dotted with teddy bears under my robes. Blindly and not knowing where I was headed, I raced over the rocks, which was probably the reason why I failed to see the cliff, all of a sudden trod on air - literally - and found myself in the water below where I nearly drowned (I can't swim).
But Wormtail, my hero, arrived just in time and rescued me by dragging me into the boat. I'll have to award him. Maybe I'll appoint him His Dark Lordship's Rescuer In Situations Of Mortal Danger.