Diaries of Lord Voldemort

July 19, 1945

Not only was the ugly female girl defending herself, but there were also witnesses at the crime scene that needed to be dealt with. I slit the girl's throat, using too much force unnecessarily. Blood gushed from the wound like those fountains that occasionally spurt upwards. The smell of blood turned me on, as did the sight of her. How beautiful the bloody body of the girl looked. Only then could I look at her differently. She was quite pretty.

She was choking on blood, her eyes widened, she struggled. It didn't seem to occur to her that it was too late, that she was dying. Huge amounts of blood flowed from the torn carotid artery. Her body convulsed, and the girl choked on blood.

I smiled broadly. My favorite activity gave me so much satisfaction. Watching her agony, oh god, I wish the woman died a little slower. Will use less force next time. Murder has the only downside - if you don't try hard enough, the victim will end his life so quickly that you won't have time to enjoy it.

I had a long road ahead of me, and the figure of Voldemort I was to become was inexorably approaching me. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I missed my gang friends. Only occasionally. But I knew I had to keep them at a distance. Soon I will be the Dark Lord and they will be my servants. Everything for a good cause.

I stared at the muggleborn's dead body in disgust. All positive feelings I felt towards her were gone. I spat at her bloody face, I kicked her head at an unnatural angle. I then set off in pursuit of the two witnesses. I caught up with them fast enough. The two men didn't stand a chance against me, but I was tired of ripping out throats or other dirty methods. This time, simple, pure Avada Kedavra will suffice.

After the murders, I went back to the woman. Her blond hair was sticky with blood, as were her clothes. The black top masked the blood a little, which could not be said about the skirt in light shades of beige and inconspicuous leather shoes in the same color.

"Now what, bitch?"

I started laughing hysterically. I was suddenly tempted to insult her body. Cut into pieces, take out the organs and even eat them. I had to control myself. The black magic at my disposal was so powerful that it was difficult to keep in check. I don't want to end up as another wild beast. I will become the most powerful sorcerer in our history.

So her battered corpse was meant for something else. a higher purpose. I pulled out the artifacts I needed. I meditated for a long time. The dark energy was so strong that it seemed like it would fuck me up from the inside out. Nothing could be more wrong. The energy around me just sensed what I wanted to do. It took me a good half hour to tame her. The smell of the girl's blood helped a lot.

So I made efforts to make another horcrux. Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem was perfect. I know a piece of the blonde girl's life ,even in small amount will stay in the horcrux as well. She should be proud of it. Voldemort killed her himself. He even granted the grace of using the diadem to her benefit. The act of murder is one of the strongest. It tears the soul apart. The energy of the deceased person accumulates for some time around the crime scene, and sometimes also the torturer. Therefore, the blond-haired beauty, or rather her soul, a subject I've never been interested in, will be drawn into the horcrux. I bet some of her energy will be able to evacuate, wreaking havoc nearby. Another haunted place where muggle cattle will perform ouija board rituals. I winced in disgust at the thought.

The process of creating a horcrux, although it starts so innocently, is so complicated that I will not describe it here. There is another reason: what if someone accidentally discovers my notes? Impossible in theory, but you can never be too careful. All I can tell you is that I developed a bond with the dead girl, which made my job a lot easier. Not an hour had passed when I felt a part of my soul being ripped off and drawn into the diadem. This is how I created my fourth horcrux.