Birth of a Nightmare Man

Epilogue

The doors had gotten rustier since the beginning of the Nightmare Lord's sentence. There was water leaking in from several surfaces, and little was done to prevent them. Only the spot where the guards had their place seemed to be looked after, or at least that's what the Lord heard. When he bothered to listen to their small talk. It didn't always happen.

But he always heard the doors. It was easy to learn when they were being opened. Like now, creaking and screeching just as he had gotten himself to a restful state, almost as if they knew that. He felt the urge to scream until they left. But no. He had learnt a little bit of patience during the years of his imprisonment and thus remained with his head bowed, as if he was asleep.

Usually they wanted him awake. No need to give people what they wanted. If being a little shit was the worst he could do to them nowadays, a little shit he would be.

"Is he dead?"

The voice was vaguely familiar. He couldn't tell from where. One of the guards? No, he rarely remembered what they sounded like. Also, it felt like he knew this voice from a long, long time ago. But that didn't make much sense.

"Hey, you, get your head up! This is the Minister, show some respect!"

The lord opened one eye, and winced at the glare of the light.

"Is that a way to treat an old man?" he said, startling them. "Get that bloody light away from me before I rip your brains out through your noses."

"Apparently he gives false threats all the time," someone hurried to say, "no need to fear him, Minister. He's just a prisoner with no magic."

"Want to test my patience, boy?" he snarled, and the voice snapped shut.

The lord sighed and raised his head, opening both eyes to adjust to the light which had gotten a bit dimmer. He blinked a few times and inhaled. Rust, water, metal, sweat… perfume. Sweet one as well. He never understood perfume.

A man stepped closer, distracting him. The lord tilted his head, looking at him. He was familiar. Instead of trying to sneak into their heads, which the lord tried to do every now and then, he was busy studying each and every detail of the man. It had to be the new Minister. They always came, the new Ministers, to ogle at the freaky man in an underground prison few knew even existed.

Once it clicked who the man was, the lord reared his head back a bit while his heart began to beat faster. A sort of gleeful beat.

The man was Cornelius Fudge. Albeit a younger one than the lord had ever seen, but still a face he knew.

"Who might this be?" he asked anyway, since he knew this was expected of him. "You reek of sweat. You're also rather pale and why are you clutching that hat so hard? Wait… oh. Are you perhaps… yes, you are. You're afraid of me."

Afraid of a man chained to a stone throne.

"Shut your mouth!"

Ah, one of the guards. A figure in grey robes that liked to bark orders at him. That man had gotten older though; the lord remembered when he was a rosy-cheeked young lad. It must have been what, sixty years by now? Or maybe not that long. Did people work that long? The lord had never bothered to figure out how long people worked in the magical world.

"This is the new Minister," the guard continued, "so show some respect!"

The Nightmare Lord laughed at that, and replied:

"Respect? For someone who shivers at the sight of me? Spare me, please."

"Silence, you beast."

A woman this time, young and fresh. Suck a plucky little thing. Kind of reminded him of a redhead who was called… what was it now again? Oh, that's right, Ginerva. Ginny. Had she been born? No, this was his first meeting with Fudge, and he was Minister before she was born. Or had the lord slept through when Fudge came the first time?

No, they usually made sure he was awake for that. With violence if necessary. He couldn't tell them off for being a bit excessive considering he would've done the same in their case.

"Or you'll do what?" he asked in response to the woman's words. "Torture me? I can claim on pretty good grounds I'll still be better than you at it. Release me and I'll show you."

Fudge was sweating pretty heavily now. It was hilarious. The first Ministers hadn't sweated. They were used to war and evil people. Had Fudge ever seen Voldemort in person? Had Voldemort been vanquished? The lord couldn't remember when Fudge had become Minister, before or after the fall of Voldemort.

"Let me show this ancient one what the future has to offer," the woman said to one of the guards. When she was given the clear, because who cared if the lord was hurt or not, she continued, "Please step back, Minister. He won't be grinning after this."

Oh, how little people had learned. Or perhaps, how much they had forgotten. The lord faced her, and her spell hit him dead on. It made his body vibrate. It felt like his skin was coming off, peeling back and revealing flesh and muscles. His nerves were on fire, his blood vessels bursting and his bones breaking.

It wasn't real. It only felt real. And how he laughed. He laughed loudly, at length before saying:

"This is all the future has to offer? You weakling."

The spell ended and he breathed out. The chains had gotten a bit loose. His thoughts were scrambled up, the spell had hurt a lot, and so while knowing this was going to be so stupid he couldn't help himself.

All the magic he could gather beneath the loosened chains, and he grinned wide. His eyes bore into the woman's, and he told her:

"Blow up."

Her body splattered. Onto his face, his clothes… on the guards, on Cornelius Fudge, and the people who had followed him. Those shrieked and screamed, falling over themselves as they tried to scrape bits of the woman off their faces. The lord laughed, and laughed, and continued to laugh as the guards pulled Fudge out and shut the door.

He calmed down abruptly, licked his lips and tasted her blood. Satisfied, he hummed to himself.

"A few more years I believe," the Nightmare Lord sang to himself in the dark. "Oh yes… then it's time to get out."

End