Shadowed Truth

Author's Note: English is not my mother tongue so be warned. I don't know where this story is leading but I just couldn't not write this. The idea kinda stuck in my head. I don't have a beta reader so bear with me on this account. Well, enough with this. On with the story.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. Everything belongs to JKR and I only do this for my enjoyment and not for any profit or money.

Prologue

It was dark. Tiny streams of water flowed noiselessly on the cold stone floor. The magnificent statues lining the chamber were only illuminated by the weak light on the other side of the hall, giving them an eerie appearance. An almost sacred silence would have befallen this forgotten and lost place, had the voices at the far corner of the room been silent.

"It pains me each time to see you go and to let this continue." The voice was deep and soft, obviously concerned by something.

"You know that there is nothing we can do now. If they knew what really happened, the truth, we would loose every advantage over him that we currently have. It is always the same. You are plagued by your helplessness and I by my choices to deceive those I, dare I say it, love. We cannot help it. I must return. You will be here to nurse my wounds, whatever they may be." The dark figure turned and sighed deeply. He knew that it could not be avoided and he accepted it. Suddenly a familiar warmth enfolded him and he basked in the sensation, knowing that it would be a long time before he could feel it again.

"Someday it'll be over and you'll be free to show them our secrets. Our name will be cleansed and you will be able to tell the world that you are my heir." The whispered words sent hope to his heart and his spirits soared. "Do not forget your precautions. If everything goes wrong you'll need them." The man smirked.

His companion snorted.

"Well, you know me. Trouble seems to find me. I can't help it." He groaned. "It's time."

The figure waved his hand and shrunk all of his possessions. After a last teary hug he turned, straightened and set his face into a carefully constructed depressive mask. He walked out, never looking back, determined once again that he was doing what he had to.

"May the gods protect you, my son."