A/N: I am very happy I managed to post it before I leave. And it was difficult for me to find time. I am in a horrible hurry now, holidays, and this kind of stuff. So maybe you shall leave me a review…

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't earn. Only torture.

So, let's think of a possibility, just a possibility, that I was wrong.

I am dragged through the door into horribly lit courtroom.

Maybe I was wrong.

A crowd of people stare at me.

I mean, look at Albus. Always so trustful, believing people change, giving second chances.

Some of these faces I know.

Naïve, in other words. Betrayed many times he could have been.

I am placed on an uncomfortable chair.

And now look at me. Quite the opposite.

At least it doesn't tie me.

 My confidence never was betrayed, Mainly, because it didn't exist.

Who would have thought Arthur will get this high.

Since I was wrong for the first time, I decide that it will never happen again.

It's boring. Why don't they start so we could have this over?

So I never again trusted. I took into consideration, that everyone is my enemy, including myself, and I was right, for the most of the time. I was right.

At last Arthur stands up and begins his speech. Accused, betrayed, oath…

Albus allowed people to abuse his confidence. It always amazed me, that he never learned on his mistakes. One could expect, that after having Voldemort as teacher at school he will be less carefree. But no. Well, maybe 'carefree' is not the proper word.

The prosecutor begins his speech.

He gave a lot, not expecting to be given back. He offered everybody who wanted his friendship and respect. He treated everyone as equals.

I cannot separate his words. I hear it all as a kind of aggressive wave that falls on me. But it doesn't matter. Not any more.

I always looked if I have my own business in the matter, before I moved my little finger. I belittled everyone and showed my despise just in case.

I think I remember this young man who accuses me. He was one of my pupils. That would explain emotions he shows.

And even though it seemed that I am showing more common sense, now I am wondering, if I was not the one to loose more.

He is walking impatiently and gesturing a lot. Probably tries to picture all my awful deeds.

I never lost, because I never joined the game called 'Interpersonal Relations'. But I also never won.

At last he stopped it. It was getting on my nerves. I probably shall be grateful, he didn't bring an actor with him, to play Voldemort.

I was as lonely, as one can be. Good thing it is. Safe thing it is. Bloody painful it is.

Now my lawyer is speaking. I don't even know him. He is not half as convincing as persecutor was, but at least I don't have to be ashamed for his childish behaviour.

At the beginning one is even glad. Nobody disturbs. Peace.

He steps back and someone else comes.

Then one lies in his bed and feels a terrible solitude. No breath, except for your own. Horrible silence. Silence that throws you into depression or even insanity.

Damn it. What is Potter, The Saviour of the World, doing here? Am I never to be left alone?

That's when your hearing sharpens. And so you can hear the clock's ticking, dripping of water in the bathroom, murmurs of unknown origin. You begin to count it, in spite of yourself. And these voices grow louder and seem to surround you, and you feel like shouting or throwing something against the wall to silence half-imagined noise.

Oh, spare me this humiliation. He is deposing for me!

Everybody needs company.

I don't want to listen to his words. It would make me feel guilty, that I was never just to him. And guilt is the last thing I need now. I mean, more guilt.
You see, even Voldemort needed other people and was very aware of the fact that he did. He needed enemies to fight with. He needed slaves to command them. He needed fools to spurn them and to be worshiped by them. He needed followers to use them.

He finished, at last. Have it not been about me, I would even believe him.

But he chose an inner circle of confidents. Because even he, with all his egocentrism knew the truth that we build visions of ourselves on what others think of us. We may want to think differently, we may tell we don't care what others think of us, but that's a lie. We may not care what people in general think, but we can't live against everybody.

Is this day never going to finish? What now?

I pretended to be an exception. But I am not one. There are no exceptions.

Oh, I must be already damned. What is this werewolf doing here?

I am of bones and blood and as such I have needs. One feels hunger, thirst, desire. All these needs are powerful and may rule us, allow we them so.

It is the most humiliating day of my life. What did I do to deserve their pity?

But there are other needs – needs of the… mind? Soul? A great need for someone who cares.

Great. And you are speaking about me? Are you sure, Lupin?

And my own behaviour was purposefully auto-destructive. I had developed something similar to self-harming in the emotional way. I denied myself feeling.

Oh, finish this speech of yours. It embarrasses me, because I begin to think you met my lost twin. Not that I have one.

Do you know it's proved that beating is better for children than not being noticed?

At last. Now Arthur is supposed to make his decision.

Anyway, I cannot blame anyone for my present situation. For they are only to confirm the sentence I have already fulfilled.

Why cannot he make it faster?

Have there been dementors, would there be enough of my soul to feed the smallest one of them?

What? Am I mistaken?

When I look at myself rationally I know I am not all evil. I didn't want Voldemort to rule the world. I wanted to protect those, that are weaker. But I was afraid of being belittled and laughed at. And to prevent it I created a vision of myself, that no one could laugh at. I created a mask. But a mask isn't only hiding our face – it gives a new one. And my mask was a mask of hateful being, that existed only to hurt others and make their lives miserable.

But to clear me of all charges is  kind of… eccentric.

Others' eyes are mirrors in which we see our soul. And so I allowed myself to gradually become the image I prepared for others.

I don't know what I am supposed to do.

There were seldom people who saw me in different light. One was Voldemort. He believed me to be one of his fanatics. Amusing. As if I could be a fanatic of any case. I am too pragmatic and cynical to believe anything completely.

I stand up and look at Arthur, who nods at me. So I am to stay here, I suppose.

Other was Albus. He always looked at me as if he cared. Maybe he really did. He did. I know he did.

At last most of the people leave, except for Werewolf, Saviour of the World and Minister. Great company for me.

The only human being that cared if I was alive, is gone. I won't have a chance to tell him I am sorry I never returned his concern, and that it was very important to me. Helped me stay alive. I won't have a chance to tell him, that I also thought of him as about a friend, mentor, maybe even father.

Arthur comes closer and asks me if there is something he can do for me. He even apologises for all the troubles I had.

So, returning to the first question, is it better to lose and win, or not to try at all?

So I ask him, if he can show me the graves. Albus' grave.

I shall not answer this question, as it has already been answered. So stupid I was.

He looks at me in disbelief. So does Werewolf and Saviour of the World.

'But… Severus…'

'What?' I snap impatiently.

'Albus is not dead. He is in St Mungo's. He was unconscious till yesterday. He asked me to bring you as soon as you are cleared.'

A/N: Hahaha. I always wanted to leave you with a real cliff-hanger (evil me). And now I do. And just to clean the situation, I didn't change my mind about Albus. I had known he was alive in the beginning. It was only Severus who was talking about his death, and he only deduced it. Remus mentioned once that even Albus wasn't saint, but he meant situation before the war, not that he is dead. And please leave me a review, I neglected my other very important duties, to write it before I leave again, for the next week Next chapter is the final one.

Thanks for everyone who spent his/her time to read it. It was your encouragement that kept me writing. And it was my master Terry Pratchett who said Severus' words about masks, that are another face. And it's at least a bit taken from him, the part about creating reality, becoming what others see us. He is a wise man.