EPILOGUE
A sleepy eyed ten year old jumped awake as the wind smacked a tree branch into his window. He quickly lit his candle and looked around the large room, shivering. It was always cold, even with a roaring fire, the room was simply to big and empty to be warm, let alone cosy.
He held the small candle up to his clock, it was nearly three in the morning. He thought about just trying to go back to sleep but his head was too busy.
So he stuffed his feet into his slippers and pulled on his thick dressing gown. He could see light coming from under his door so didn't bother take the candle with him, leaving it safely on his bedside table for when he got back. The door creaked as he pulled it open and plodded out into the dimly light hallway.
"You should be in bed young man!" A painting of his very strict great great grandmother told him. He ignored it and carried onto his mother's room. He knocked on the door but there was no answer. He wasn't very surprised, it was very late and she was probably asleep in the inner chamber.
He wasn't allowed to go into her suite unless she was with him but he opened the door anyway; he needed a hug. The room was empty and flawlessly tidy as normal, although something caught his eye. He walked forward to the black shape on the small coffee table next to his mothers favourite chair.
It was an old, shabby, black diary, a hole burnt right through, from cover to cover. He looked it over but put it back quickly and knocked on his mothers bedroom door but there was no response. He left the room, wondering why she'd left the diary out; she never left things lying around.
He carried on down stairs walking slowly down the ornate grand staircase, the wood beneath his feet creaking with every step.
"What are you doing up?" his father snapped looking up from the seventeen year old he was giving love bites to on one of the chaise lounges that were in the entrance hall. The young seventeen year old blonde giggled.
"I was looking for Mater." The boy said, "I couldn't sleep."
The father sighed out of annoyance and stood up, despite the girl pleading for him to stay and grabbing at his clothes.
"She'll be in her rooms." he snapped at the child, "Go to bed!"
"She's not there Sir." The boy said, "Can-"
"Look!" the father shouted grabbing his son's arm and turning him round, "I'm busy! Get to bed. And you'll be sorry if you come out of your room again before morning Corvus Lestrange!"
Corvus nodded and turned around to go back to bed, looking back to his father and wondering where his mother could possibly have gone.
