The house had been left abandoned for sometime now; its owner had left for America almost a year ago and hadn't returned as usual. The dust had settled at an inch on every surface, the air held a stagnant feel, and the box of cereal had long since gone stale. The garden was full of weeds and forlorn cobwebs had formed in every corner. Life had left the house.

All life was gone, that is, except for the dark figure that was slinking through the yard at an ungodly hour in the night. It crossed the overgrown lawn to a lone smiling garden gnome, lifted the clay lawn ornament, and smiled. There laid a dull golden key that the owner had left for an idiot who often lost his key. The intruder removed the object from it s spot and replaced the grinning gnome and turned toward the house.

After crossing the ragged lawn again, the intruder went up the moss covered steps to the front door. He proceeded with caution in hopes that the owner hadn't put in motion sensor that would trigger the lights; he didn't need any type of complications.

When the lights didn't turn on he let out a sigh of relief and put the key in the door and paused, he couldn't help but wonder if the key was outdated, the homes owner had been know to change his locks often. And I don t want to break a window. He held his breath and turned the key.

-Click- the door unlocked.

The intruder let out his breath again and remotely thought that this breaking in business was really rather nerve racking. I'm going to have white hair after this.He opened the door and slipped inside the front hall. The temperature was almost the same as outside except there was a slight draft and it wasn't as wet. The intruder navigated through the house until he reached the kitchen which was, in his opinion, inconveniently located at the back of the house.

It was a room of smallish size and was what he assumed to be an average English kitchen that had appliances that most likely were over fifty years old. A complete waste of space in this house his mind muttered.

His gaze swept around the room until his eyes alighted upon a door that was wedged into a corner of the room, if one wasn't searching for it would have easily overlooked. However it was exactly what the man was there for and he quickly made his way across the linoleum floor and grasped the door knob.

It jiggled but didn't open. He paused and started to jiggle the knob with more vigor. Still nothing. In a sudden sense of frustration he banged his fist against the door. He sighed when still nothing happened; he took a step back and observed the door with a feeling of exasperation. The intruder turned his back against the door and glanced around the room to look for something to open the door. I guess I'll have to...His thought was cut off mid-sentence when a rather loud creek-like sound echoed through the quite house. It nearly gave him a heart attack. The intruder turned to look at the door to find that it was now hanging ajar. A smirk crept onto his face and he moved toward the door again and descended down the stairs that were lying behind it.

The stairs eventually lead to a dark, stone walled room that had a draft that was worse than the chilly house above that had a constant drip echo off it s walls. It looked remarkably like those stone rooms one would find in a medieval castle and expect a wizard or an alchemist of some sorts to use. There was a wooden table and several book shelves that were filled with bottles, jars, lose papers, and thick books of all sorts miscellaneously placed. There was one wooden bench and even that was buried underneath the stacks of books on the floor.

The intruder was finding it rather incredulous that the complete, almost obsessively so, neat-freak Arthur had a room that looked like a bomb went off in it. He was also immediately discouraged at finding his goal in this room. But low and behold on the center of the table there was a clearing in the chaos, and there laid a singular book.

It was leather bound in a dyed purple color. There was no writing in any language on the cover but the feel one got from it was unmistakable. It was an old book. A really-really old book. And it had magic. It had untold promises beneath it's cover, promises of power. He approached the book and a dark smile grew on his face with each step he took to get closer, until he was standing right before the book and grinning like a madman.

He placed a hand on the cover and almost instantly felt power coursing through his body.

"Je l'ai trouvé." And Francis chuckled darkly.
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Well the title says it all; hopefully this will be an interesting story.

This is the sequel to my first story but I want to create a more adventurous story. Hope you're looking forward to it!

French to English:

Je l'ai trouvé: I have found it.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Sadly…