The Consecration Of Voldemort

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~1998, Lord Voldemort, postmortem~


I read once that 7 is a lucky number.

It has never shown its luck to me.

I wanted to live forever, to live an infinity.


But I was born because of a girl who broke a boy.


I really died by her hand.

I made 7 horcruxes of my soul,

And 8 came instead.


One by one they all were destroyed,

except for the last one.

It created a double.


Over time and space,

The dementor's almost kiss

Brought to life a purity that no horcrux has ever known.


It lay around another girl's neck,

pure and true because

Her soul pierced through it

And my old heart did too.


In my moment of weakness,

That piece of my soul was made new.

And was preserved around her neck

till my heart beat grew still.


I am gone now, turning to dirt in the ground,

But an old new part that I envy so much,

Is whole and happy now and will live on.


8 never ends. There's no points or lines

That harshly, jaggedly break.

They circle around over and over.

They darken and strengthen and never shake.


Maybe 8 is infinite.


Maybe 7 is what I should hate.


Maybe 8 is the lucky number after all.


A/N:

You guys are all the best <3

Next Chapter will be coming out in the next day or so.

<3 Always,

Rememberme525600

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