He walked along the silent pathway, ignoring the whispering of the trees, the howling of the wind, the exquisite colour of the sky with equally exquisite stars, unblinking, bright in the darkness of the shadows. His robes sweep underneath him, billowing against him, making small rustling sounds on the stone pathway. He does not pay attention to any of these details. He is too wound up in his own thoughts. Tiny fragments of memory twisting and turning inside of his head, killing him. And then he hears them. Children. Laughing. His eyes narrow and he sees them playing on the swings, climbing up the bars. They're happy. And he hates them for it. Fingering his wand, the growing angriness swallows him until he can take it no longer. Wrenching his wand out, he yells the two- phrased dreaded words three times over and the bodies clash to the ground, their recent smiles frozen on their lips. Something inside of him has torn. He doesn't know what it is, and he tried desperately not to care as he casually tucks the wand back into the pocket of his robes. A nagging feeling has been burrowing deep inside of him ever since he murdered the children, but he remains ignorant to this fact, still trudging along. On his own.
And then he pauses. And he sees another family again. Gritting his teach, he makes no move but silently watches. They are laughing, smiling, sharing fond kisses. A boy cuddled in between the warmth of his mother and father. Mother and father... something he didn''t have. And before he knows it, the tears are softly falling down his cheeks. Wiping them angrily away from his face with a bony wrist, he carries on, each step with more determination now. He is angry with himself. Angry he has let his guard down and become so weak. And angry because he doesn't have what he's been longing for for so long. Love.