I believe he saw himself as an immortal entity. Something that would last beyond the far reaches of time and space and be shackled to this Earth forever. And although we speak of him with fear and with hate, it is the few and far between that can understand why he did what he did. It was never out of spite or even honest hate. It was because in his mind, he was doing the right thing. In his own way, he was, I suppose, a hero unto himself. And I have ever respected the magic that he preformed, for while it was beyond the norm of evil and out of the spectrum of madness, it was far greater than any other man could have preformed. But a lack of conscious, love and understanding for one's fellow man brutally warped and malformed his mind. Whether he was born this way or some cataclysmic event in his childhood did this to him, I do not know. But even as I raised my wand to his heart, I felt pity for a fellow wizard, one who was tortured by his own mind; and as I whispered the only spell that could ever bring him peace, I fell into wretched sobs.