Birth of a Nightmare Man

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As with all good things, they had to come to an end at one point. The Nightmare Lord should know this. Knew this. But hope was truly the final thing to leave people, even one as him.

The years that passed were filled with peace and quiet friendship he hadn't had since George. He imagined it to last forever. Wished for it to last forever. But that was a foolish thing to even think.

Rowena died first. It was unexpected, she wasn't that old and… she wasn't that old. But she got sick, and they didn't find a cure. Not in time… perhaps not at all. The lord knew he had tried. The magic was taken from her by that disease, and no matter what he had tried he couldn't stop it.

He never told her how many people he had kidnapped in order to try anyway. How he experimented with them, take away the magic and put it back. How many had died under his hands, some screaming in pain as their bodies completely fell apart. Rowena probably already knew that.

When the end drew near, and Rowena's strength was failing her, the lord gave up on trying in order to be near her instead. He brought books he had never showed her, books from a future she would never see with her two eyes. Usually the others were there, as well as her children, but one time he came and she was alone.

"Lord," she said through pale lips. The magic was barely there, her body wasting away on the bed. "You're early."

"Am I?" he said.

"What story are you telling today?" she wondered. "You have no book."

He realized this, and also realized he had never had any intention bringing a book with him.

"Oh." He sat down by her side. "I… think I unconsciously chose a story that needs no book."

"Really?"

He looked at her. Still so young, compared to how long wizards and witches lived… her hair was still dark, the creases on her face barely there.

"It's a story about a boy," the lord said even as the memories fell in place. "Now, this is a story only for you Rowena. I must ask you… not to repeat it to a single living person."

"If you came early to tell a story only for me… then lord, my lips are sealed."

He wanted to touch her hand, feel her warmth. So he did. He had never really done that before to any of them. Perhaps he should have. To have memories when they no longer were there.

"He lived beneath the stairs," he said, "in the care of Aunt and Uncle."

Rowena's eyes widened a bit.

"His name was Harry," the lord said, his old name strange to say after so many years. "And until he was eleven years old, magic wasn't real. It was just make-belief."

It wasn't a particularly good story… but for some reason, he wanted her to hear it. So he spoke about it. His old name, the one he threw away. His life, when magic was forbidden to speak of, and then later, how magic became real.

"The castle…" Rowena interrupted softly. "It sounds like Hogwarts."

"I know," he said. "It was Hogwarts."

It took her a minute to fully grasp what he said.

"You… the future?"