To the Dark Lord:
At the risk of you AK-ing me on the spot, I have a confession to make: I am a big fan of your arch-nemesis. What can I say—I like sassy underdogs who know how to give proper hugs. Everyone knows this about me, and I see no point in hiding this fact from a great Legilimens like yourself.
But there is something I desire that I'm afraid the Potter boy can't provide.
You see, for about eight months out of the year, I am plagued by something generally referred to as allergies. I'll spare you the sordid details, but just know that I've spent many a day wishing my nose away.
In following the Potter boy's story, I noticed something about your inspiring rise to powerful evilness: somewhere along the way, your nose slowly transformed into a new, less imposing part of your facial structure. And I often wondered, does the Dark Lord ever experience a runny nose or have to fight the urge to attack an incessant itch? (Forgive me for thinking of you in such mundane terms.) Does he ever fear what will happen if he strolls through a vibrant field of luscious grass and blooming flowers?
Silly, frivolous problems, perhaps, but it's enough to make me wish every spring that I could be more like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Powerful. Crafty. And most importantly, immune to pollen.
After getting by for weeks on unsatisfactory Muggle remedies, I've finally decided to take more drastic action. Harry Potter can't cure my allergies—the best he can do is a quick fix on the inevitable day when I finally break my nose by violent scratching—but you can rid my face of the offending appendage altogether. I can't think of a more attractive solution to my problem.
In return for this service, you will gain a faithful Ravenclaw for life and one less fighter for Harry Potter's cause. If this proposition intrigues you, please respond by owl by the end of April.
A potential Death Eater