I will live forever.
I will not die. Death is for those who are weak, who do not have power, and I will have it, even if I do not have it now.
I search for my wizard family, my magical ancestry, hoping to find answers. My mother came from a completely pure-blooded line of wizards and witches. Even though she had been as useless as a Squib, as well as a blood-traitor for bestowing her affections upon a Muggle, surely the family she had come from was much more reputable. From my research, the Gaunts were indeed a very powerful family, but had fallen off the map for decades. It worked to my advantage that they had been laying low.
Unfortunately, I was to be greatly disappointed.
One of them is left, and he is a deplorable being. He is a vicious man without class, Morfin. My uncle. It disgusts me that I share blood with him. I get the information I desire to find my father's line when the ring Morfin is wearing catches my eye. I recognize the mark on it. It is the crest of an ancient family, and it is obvious that it carries powerful magical properties.
I hunt down my Muggle father. He is living with his family. Good. I will destroy any chance for him to continue his line. It gives me great satisfaction that one day soon, I will be doing this to everyone who is not of purely magical blood.
My grandparents die without a fuss. My father, however, who I find with disgust is named Tom Riddle as well, begs for his life. I demand to know why he abandoned me and my mother. His answer I didn't care about, but I enjoyed watching him scramble to find an excuse that he foolishly hoped would spare his life. From his stuttered phrases and high-pitched pleas, I surmised that my mother had put him under a love potion. With this new information, Tom Riddle Sr. falls to the ground, eyes open in death.
I don't hesitate to steal my uncle's ring, alter his memory, and frame him for the crimes I committed.
More research takes over my life for the next year. From quite a bit of reading as well as some manipulation, I discover Horcruxes – a piece of Dark magic that uses murder to allow one to split the soul. No wizard has ever done it more than once, but my abilities far exceed any of theirs. I have no qualms about my plan to sever my soul so many times that I will have seven Horcruxes. Should I get what I want – and I will – I should have more than enough murders to achieve this.
I sever my soul and put a part into a journal so that it may direct another student into opening the Chamber of Secrets to do my work, after I leave, and preferably after Albus Dumbledore is dead.
A great pleasure overtakes my body as I leave the grounds, once again feeling an immense satisfaction. My plan is in motion, and I will not be stopped. I have already achieved so much and there is no one even aware. I feel almost giddy. I will succeed. I will never die.
I will live forever.