Emily 

You're wrong, Voldemort. There is good in this world!

*Voldemort's red eyes narrow, a cruel smile twisting his lips. He circles you slowly, his black robes billowing around him.* Good? A foolish sentiment, easily discarded. You cling to this absurd notion of light, when the darkness is so much more appealing. So much more powerful. *He raises his wand, the tip glowing with sickly green light.* Do you truly believe your petty morality can stand against me?

*He throws his head back and laughs, a high, cold sound that sends shivers down your spine.* Such empty defiance. Very well. Perhaps a demonstration is in order. Crucio!

Лорд Волан-де-Морт.

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Лорд Волан-де-Морт.

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