DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.
~ Bismarck ~
Slashed wrists. A cry for help that no one hears.
A string of pearls that forms from her tears.
She dissolves, her body returning to the sea.
Her newly-born soul also breaks apart, and flies free.
No longer whole, those fragments won't return to the earth.
They await in the ether to be called into a disparate rebirth.
Eternity is a long time, and he has no one with whom to share it. As an immortal, time seems to move differently around him now than it once did. He is forced to watch the world crumble around him while he alone stands unchanging upon its surface. His followers are gone seemingly in the space of a single blink of his eye, one set replacing the next, each generation growing to respect him less and resent him more.
None of his companions were willing to take the risk to join him in his immortality, too afraid of the consequences should it fail to take. Not one among the lot had been brave enough, stupid enough, desperate enough to try it.
No one else had been willing to join him in his betrayal.
His servants rebel. So many generations removed from those who first served him, they no longer see him as their leader and savior. To these people, he is merely a tyrant who plays at being a god and has ruled them for far too long.
He could kill them all, if he wanted, but he grew bored of this game long ago.
"Don't come crying for me to return when you realize how hard it is to rule yourselves," he says as he leaves them.
The world has changed so much since he last wandered its wilds. The mortal humans, so transient, have worked hard to leave their mark upon the earth, building cities that reach to the sky, immortalizing themselves in species if not by individual. If anything could impress him anymore, he would be tempted to be amazed by humanity's progress. But nothing does, and he is not.
He avoids the roads, does not venture into the human cities. For all that they seem to have accomplished for the furthering of their own species, humanity had not managed to tame the wild earth. Few animals are left that are both harmless and docile. Most of the animals, and even a fair amount of the plants, that he encounters on his journey are vicious enough to be termed monsters - a word which had once been reserved for only the most horrifying and reclusive of species.
He carries with him a stone. He does not remember where it came from, or exactly what magic it holds, only that it is a remnant from his days as a human mage.
He still carries his wand rather than any of the weapons favored by modern humans, or even the non-magicals from his own time. Wielding neither sword nor gun, only his wand, relying on his ancient knowledge of battle spells, he makes his way through the world. What he seeks this time, he does not know. Peace of mind, perhaps. That is the one thing he has never had in his possession since the day he gained his immortality.
One day, his magic is not enough. Even an immortal can be killed if enough damage is done that there is no possibility of regeneration. These monsters are much stronger than any he has faced before, and there are too many of them for him to face each one alone in turn.
As they swarm him, he feels the stone pulse warm in his pocket and he instinctively reaches for it, clutching it tightly in the palm of the hand that does not hold his wand.
His last coherent thought as the monsters bear down on him is that he should never have eaten the mermaid's flesh.
A cry is ripped from his throat unbidden - an incantation he has never before uttered, spoken in a language he does not recognize: "BISMARCK!"
... and for one single, shining moment she is reborn.
When the strange lights fade, he sees that all the monsters around him have been drowned and he is safe.
~end~