Author's note: This is something that popped up in my mind a while ago. It's un-beta'd. It can be a chapter all by itself or I can continue it. Depends if people like it. -shrugs- The title would actually only make sense if I continued. :) But I'll wait 'till people tell me they'd like me to continue. Like I've said, it's un-beta'd so if I mess up the tenses somewhere, tell me. There should be no spelling errors though, I checked more than a few times.

Story:

Truth

I sense it again. I don't know what exactly but I have the feeling that it's close, that what I am looking for. It feels like I just have to stretch out my hand and grasp it but every time I try it moves again, to an unreachable place. It annoys me that the answers to my questions might be close but still immensely far.

It's a clear night, one where all the stars shine bright and the moon is reflected in the lake. It's one of those nights when I sit on my windowsill, legs dangling into the vast emptiness created by the distance from my window to the ground. I close my eyes when a soft breeze tickles my skin and moves my black hair.

When a soft sound reaches my ears through the silent night I open my eyes, and look towards the edge of the forest that surrounds my home, they have arrived. I can follow each of their individual footsteps as they resound through my being. I wish them horrible deaths, and my hatred flares up. They are murderers, they are destroyers, come to demolish the sole thing I have left.

It is hard to distinguish the three figures in the distance but I know they have come to a stop. Silently I stood, my feet balancing on the windowsill, challenging death though I know I would not die. They cannot see me, but one of them can sense me as I can sense him.

I narrow my eyes, as my anger and hatred rise to a new high, they have come to destroy, destroy my home and my memory of he, who I loved above all else, my anchor and my conscious. I will not allow them, I will not allow them to demolish my home, I will kill them if necessary.

Three figures emerged from a forest and were approaching a small castle. One was walking in front of the other two and seemed to be the leader. The leader stopped at still a good distance from the castle, the other two quickly stopped as well. « My Lord? » the one on the right asked cautiously. It was a tall man with black, greasy hair and a crooked nose. The woman who was standing on the left side of their leader also had black hair though her face was almost skull-like and her eyes held a permanent gleam of insanity.

Their leader didn't even look remotely human he had a very pale, almost white skin, spidery long fingers and his nostrils were slits but what caught most attention were his scarlet red eyes. « Severus, » Voldemort whispered « You said Dumbledore gave you this location as a vote of confidence? » Snape nodded « Yes, my Lord » the wide scarlet eyes narrowed. « Did he mention someone living here? » Snape looked shocked for a moment before composing himself « No, my lord, Dumbledore has always lived alone. » Voldemort's eyes studied the castle.

« The wards that protect this castle are new and not made by Dumbledore. » he raised his hand that clutched his wand and made a circular motions, a green light shot out of the tip of his wand and flew towards the castle but it was stopped by a shimmering red wall that after the spell died away disappeared immediately. « Dumbledore could have renewed them just before he… » Snape offered cautiously, Voldemort gave him a piercing stare. « No, they are very new, made only two days ago, a week at least. » it was silent for a moment « But that is not why I know it is not Dumbledore who made them it is the way they are made and the emotions behind them. » Bellatrix frowned.

« My lord? » Voldemort stepped forward and let his hand hover in mid air before pushing forwards, this time a yellow barrier stopped him from going further. « Dumbledore, as the fool that he was, would have made them with love, but these wards… » Bellatrix stared at him « these are made by hatred and anger. Someone is living here. » he put a step back. « and that someone is watching us. » Bellatrix pulled her wand. But before she could say anything the dark lord turned around and walked back to the forest « we will come back later, Bella, » Snape turned and after casting one more wary glance at the dark castle he followed his lord.

I narrow my eyes as I see them moving back into the forest. I can't help but wonder when they'll be back. I move back inside swiftly and close the window. Even if they came back they would find nothing of interest except a pair of old socks that I gave him long ago and a pair of new socks that I would have given him if he were still alive. Which he was not, to my immense regret.

I don't think I ever realised how much I cared until now, now that he was gone, gone forever. Never to return. I wish I could look into his twinkling blue eyes once more before leaving this place that has been my home and prison for all of my life. Though the only memories I have left are already fading into the back of my mind. The only things remaining are pairs of socks and an empty painting hanging above the grand fireplace in a room that I try to avoid as much as I can.

Tonight, however I must go to that room, were I spend many summer nights with him, usually absorbed in reading whatever book I had been able to snatch from the library and he would sometimes read or just watch me. I walk slowly towards the room, it's in the middle of our castle and as I approach it I slow even more. I know I have to go in there, I know that it is inevitable that I have to go in and I also know that it is very probable that he is sitting in his painting right now, waiting for me.

I push the door softly and it swings open silently, the house was in a fine state, even though it was very old. I slowly enter the circular room. It is furnished richly and the tones of blue are all shades of grey in the darkness. I close my eyes as memory after memory flies past my mind. When I open them again I see him sitting in his painting, his blue eyes watching me patiently.

I almost can't stand him looking at me, it is painful, to know that he is gone, mere paint on a cloth. I venture further into the room, he hasn't said anything, yet, for which I am grateful. I quickly look around the room, searching for objects of value. When I spot a small, familiar book in front of the fireplace I move to take it but his soft voice stops me, « Auvriel… »

Continue or not?

Thanks for reading.