Disclaimer: I own nothing. Quite sad, isn't it?

Ok, I've finally written something, meaning, first "story." Spur of the moment. Totally not thought out very well. Oh well. Read on...

Unhealthy obsession. Yes, that's the perfect phrase to describe it.

I admit it. I have an unhealthy obsession with the Dark Arts. Why? Have you ever done something wrong? Something that makes your heart pump faster than it has ever done before? The adrenaline rush. The terror of being found. Waiting patiently and agonizingly, just to find out if your pursuers have given- up, and stopped searching for the perpetrator, to be precise, you.

Ah… but I was foolish and I was young. I was dealing with things many/ most could only dream of! The Dark Arts. Studying, slaving over this topic, I realized this subject is not "dark" as everyone would like to think. It has brought me great joy, curiosity, not to mention pain and suffering. The joys of finding and discovering new things. Curious to search and dig through unknown and unspeakable mysteries. Pain and suffering when something goes horribly and dreadfully wrong.

You see, this fixation started when I was quite young. Twelve years old in fact. I should have stopped then. I would have, if I wasn't so foolhardy. But noooo, I kept prying, looking, probing, until it was too late. I can't stop things that I have truly started. My one true weakness. I am sure this will bring me down in the end.

When I was offered a position among the Dark Lord's ranks. My heart soared. If I should accept, so many new possibilities could open up! So many discoveries, ideas, spells to be discovered. But if I should back down, I would most certainly die. Funny, isn't it? My innermost fear: Death. I accepted the offer. I had no other option.

My job, given directly from the Dark Lord, was to invent, uncover new spells. Dark magic, that is. I was delighted. I never had to go to battle, never would I have to fight. I could stay in a room filled with books while the others fought for their lives. They sneered and jeered at me. Calling me coward. Calling me so many names I'd prefer not to list. I just kept telling myself that they were jealous. They did the dirty work while I helped them inconspicuously. No one would ever believe I was a Death Eater if they decided to give up my name. The ministry might suspect me, but what proof did they have? What evidence? I was quite content with my "position."

Everything was going fine until the Dark Lord told me to look for more information on Horcruxes. I stared at him. How the hell did he know about Horcruxes? That was the first thought that popped into my mind when he sent the order. Almost absolutely no one knew they existed. And if some did know about them, they pushed the topic deep into their mind, thinking it was just some silly myth. I soon realized exactly how much the Lord wanted to know more about them. When I didn't research "fast enough," he threatened me. And if you're wondering what he threatened me with, that is beside the point. Err… we're getting off track now.

I found the information for him after three months of intense researching. He was pleased. Extremely pleased. Merlin, what have I done? Did I just give him the information to bring down the entire wizarding society! Bloody hell. Sirius was right. I've got to be the most idiotic Slytherin to ever step in to the Great Hall.

But that brings me to my next point. Why? Why does he want to know? Is he actually going to try and create Horcruxes to make himself immortal? To split his soul into pieces, making him into a greater power-hungry monster? Shit. He's coming.

I can't believe it. I'm feeling a peculiar feeling. Something I've never felt before. Guilt. I should die. I deserve to die. Oh God, I ask again, what have I done?

Author's Note: Ok, I finished rambling. Bet I have a ton of mistakes in here. -hides-

Hrm… can you guess who this is?