November 9, 2026
Dear Diary,
I have endured many indignities in my existence. Harry Potter. That insufferable Dumbledore. Twelve years without a proper body. The unfortunate business with the snake. Through it all, I maintained a certain dignity befitting the most feared dark wizard in history.
But this latest development may finally be more than I can bear.
People are calling Stephen Miller LORD VOLDEMORT.
STEPHEN. FUCKING. MILLER.
I beg your pardon?
I am Lord Voldemort. He Who Must Not Be Named. The Dark Lord. I have commanded armies of Death Eaters, terrorized entire populations, and split my soul into seven pieces, which, I assure you, is considerably more painful than it sounds.
And now my name is being used as a nickname for an American political adviser who looks like he complains to restaurant managers about the ethnicity of the kitchen staff.
I spent decades cultivating fear. People trembled at the mere mention of my existence. Grown wizards refused to speak my name, and even those who opposed me generally had the decency to look terrified while doing so.
Now Americans are tossing my name around on social media like it’s a particularly unflattering Halloween costume.
Even Bellatrix thinks this is insulting. She suggested I sue for defamation, which seemed an excellent idea until my attorney informed me that suing someone in the United States would require me to appear in an American courtroom, submit to questioning, and possibly disclose the location of my Horcruxes.
I may have to kill him.
Again.
And what, precisely, has this Miller fellow accomplished to deserve my title? I required Horcruxes, an army of dark wizards, a collection of forbidden spells, and the Elder Wand to pursue my ambitions. Apparently, all he needed was a résumé, a telephone number, and Donald Trump.
I devoted my entire existence to mastering the Dark Arts. This man apparently mastered the art of standing behind someone at a press conference looking as though he’s mentally compiling a list of people to deport.
There are standards, Diary.
STANDARDS.
Lucius Malfoy suggested that perhaps I should consider the comparison flattering. I reminded him that I did not spend years building a reputation for unspeakable evil just to become the unofficial mascot of American immigration policy.
He persisted.
I turned him into a decorative umbrella stand. He’s much more useful now, although Bellatrix complains that he clashes with the furniture.
Nagini, meanwhile, has been watching American cable news and refuses to come out from under the sofa. I cannot blame her. I’ve seen some of those congressional hearings myself, and frankly, there are limits to the horrors even I am prepared to witness.
I have instructed the Death Eaters to issue an official statement demanding that Americans cease using my name in connection with Mr. Miller. Bellatrix wants to threaten anyone who refuses with unspeakable horrors, but I explained that Americans already have political fundraising emails. Our usual methods might go unnoticed.
Perhaps I should simply retire. Find a quiet castle somewhere, take up gardening, and grow something poisonous.
At least the plants would respect me.
For the last time, I am Lord Voldemort. He Who Must Not Be Named.
And somehow, thanks to Stephen Miller, I have become He Who Would Prefer Not To Be Mentioned.
I have never felt so violated.
Yours in eternal darkness,
Lord Voldemort
P.S. Bellatrix just informed me that someone on the internet called Miller “Voldemort without the charm.”
WITHOUT THE CHARM?
I’M GOING TO NEED ANOTHER HORCRUX.
#DearDiary #OffScript #PoliticalSatire #LordVoldemort #StephenMiller #HarryPotter #TomHicksMedia