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A sign by the hospital cafeteria:
"BBQ Baby Ribs"

I wonder if they just get them from the nursery...or if they outsource them.

Perhaps I shouldn't have gloated over my victory so quickly, it seems that ghosts from the past can still strike like vipers when you least expect it. I hate when irony jumps into real life, it should stay in books where it belongs. Still...

I'm sure I'll be able to conjure up some sort of help, should I require it.

I've been morose for the entire year. At first, it was acceptable enough because, well, who isn't morose when the days bring a razor sharp chill, perversely pleasurable, harshly bright with light from an unfeeling sun, and the nights are heralded by the maddeningly dull and stifling warmth that comes from burrowing under bedcovers?

But no more of that. Moroseness is bad enough in itself; coupled with bad and angsty writing, it becomes an offense punishable numerous papercuts on one's eyelids and genitalia.

For some reason it just... seems so quiet here to me. It's kind of driving me up a wall in a sense, but not so much that I'm going to snap or something as ridiculous as that.

I'm not used to calm, calm isn't something that's typically... viable.

Someone better come answer this damned bell soon.
 
 
 
 
 
 
So. While myself and the other wizards and witches were saving your town from sure and certain doom, you idiotic Muggles had nothing better to do than to go around attempting to kill each other and raise little baby gods.

Jolly good. That's so productive.

And by so productive I mean not.


That is to say, not productive or useful in the slightest.

You honestly do appall me. You do.


Do you have any idea what your world will be in store for if Harry wins this war?
Apparently no, no you don't.

You need, as some Muggle or another once said, to 'get with the program'.

Now you don't have to help us, but if you don't you will find yourselves in a world that basks in the nauseatingly wholesome glow of Harry as your hero, leader, guru and believe me, you won't like that a bit.

I, on the other hand, am a self-admitted, self-styled evil dictator. Help me, and life will go on as you are accustomed to it. Now what do you say?
 
 
 
 
 
 
Have you ever Googled your own name? How do you feel about the results?

Honestly, you all take yourselves so seriously. Priests being kidnapped, mad gods running loose in your hospitals... here, try this little game Luna showed me on the network.

According to googlism.com I have learned that:
voldemort is da boss
voldemort is angling for a comeback
voldemort is hard to spell?
voldemort is surrounded by a hazy glow
voldemort is back in business

...along with a load of other rubbish.
moreover,
tom riddle is a sexy bitch
tom riddle is haunted by dreams of a place he?s never been
tom riddle is a god
tom riddle is a wet dream with a face
tom riddle is a twisted little bugger
tom riddle is making a comeback with more power then he has ever had
tom riddle is the most gorgeous person i've ever seen in my life


and so on.
my conclusion?
This 'google' is a strange entity.
 
 
 
 
 
 
It saddens me to see how few of you are actually here. Rather, I'd been expecting more of those who have fled Hogwarts to have made their way to this farflung location, but I shall make do with what I have, yes?

Severus. Sirius. Luna. Myrtle.

I do not expect for a moment any of you to believe me and I'd think you fools of the highest degree to trust me- my motives remain as ever, evil.

But that is neither here nor there. For the moment I ask you to set aside your old animosities and listen to what it is I am about to say.

Sirius. It is your godson who has seized control of the Ministry, not I.

I confess, it was my every intention to do so- I would have completed my mission. Under my reign the mudbloods would have been abolished and the muggles put back in their proper place- under the thumb of the witches and wizards who so easily overpower them.

But again, that point is moot.

Harry began his takeover on the pretext of defeating me- what better rallying call? Teaching students potent spells far beyond their needs, and attempting to create a "house unity" within Hogwarts.

But to Harry "house unity" apparently only applies to three houses.
Ousted by the "political correctness" of Harry's influence the Slytherin were at first shunned and eventually, outcast.

Even Albus Dumbledore, onetime friend of the purist Grindwald, understood the wrong in this.

He tried to take Harry to task, and the two quarrelled.
And...whether by accident or intention it was he that killed Dumbledore. Not you, Snape.

And the takeover began.

Led by a horrid leftist clime the followers of Harry overthrew the Ministry- it was 'totally evil, maaan' anyway.

Harry freed all house elves who, in turn, turned on their Masters, in some cases killing them outright. In other cases, particularly among the weak and elderly these wizards, used to having the elves as caregivers, were unable to cook for themselves, and perished of neglect.

But Harry was not finished.

Needing the Muggles to believe he was 'for' them as well, he Imperius cursed a Muggle writer, a woman named Jo Rowlings, to write a series of books. In them he was the hero in all things. In this megalomanic whitewash of all history preceding he tarred those he hated, killed off those he could not find or sway to his cause, and created a media hype surrounding his name and his image.

"Movies" were created, and consumer products.

If you go into the Muggle world now you will see it is as I say- his name and face plastered everywhere. T-shirts. Keychains. Drinking cups.


You cannot escape the nauseating bastard.


And so I say to you we must join together, yes? You have no reason to trust me, and every reason to fear me. But nonetheless Harry must be stopped.