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He entered cautiously. Slowly, hesitantly, but still with surety and precision. His footsteps echoed ever so slightly throughout the building; for a heartstopping moment he stopped for an infinitesimal moment, but with a shake of his head carried on.

The breaking in had been easy. A single shard of mirror plus a bobby pin, both hers, was all it took. He almost cracked up every time someone mentioned the words 'bobby pin' to him; what kind of person had this Bobby been, just a man with unusually long hair or something more?

Concentrate, he told himself, and with that the man resumed tiptoeing into the dimly lit hallway. No one would be looking for him here; his base was covered. His very phoenix was the one at the doors, his phoenix who had yet to fail in serving him thus far. The irony of him tiptoeing down this oh-so-familiar hallway struck him as unbearably funny. The man once again resisted the urge and calmed himself down.

He chose his weapon tonight without much hesitation; a meat cleaver, right from his mother's kitchen drawers. Simple and sweet. The thought of something so holy, something straight from his mother's kitchen running through her disgraceful body sent shivers right down to his toes. That was when he knew he had to finish this tonight, once and for all.

The man quickened his pace - still cautious, precise, but with a touch less surety. He forgot to count the doors on his left, which meant that he had to go back down the corridor and count again. One, two, three. One, two, three. He completely forgot to return his cleaver to its hiding place, involuntarily flashing blinding gleams of light to clueless passersby. The thud of his heartbeat drummed in his ears.

Turn left on corner. Straight down hallway. Nearly there. He noticed the guard wasn't at his usual place. Perhaps enjoying an intimate evening with his lover? The man sniggered, No chance. He knew for a fact that the guard would never ever leave his place. Ever. That seemed a bit odd.

The thunder ceased gradually as he reached the familiar green door. He could clearly see his fingerprints on the still sticky looking surface of the wood and the faded burn mark right next to it. He had made the mark with his wand exactly eleven years from today. Eleven years. He could see the faint white light spilling out from the room. Mama always told you to be discreet, Sally. I'm coming for you.