The Nightmare Man
Summary: In the depths of the Ministry, there is a cell for the world's most dangerous man… and he wants out.
Pairing/s: None.
Warnings: Time travel, OOC-characters, Light!bashing, Twisted!Harry, Evil!Harry, violence, mention of gore. Yeah, stuff like that.
Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter nor do I make any money writing this.
-o-
This one is quite delayed compared to other chapters. Life has been busy; been travelling, started school and have been caught up in real life for some time.
But now it's here, so read and enjoy!
-o-
Chapter Thirteen
It was a normal day, mid-December when Lily Potter found her way to the Leaky Cauldron. She stood for a while by the door before anyone noticed her.
The quietness in the pub didn't last long once they did. Some shrieked at the blood on her body. Others knew she was reported missing. A few shrank back, seeing the undeniable horror and fear in her eyes.
Minutes later she was shipped off to St Mungo's without having said a word to anyone, not even as they tried to make her talk. She merely stared at them, her limbs trembling. They soon had her settled into a bed and an elderly witch leaned over her and said:
"It's alright now, dear. We've contacted your husband. He's coming."
Lily looked at her and her mouth opened. The healers froze, waiting.
"The… nightmare…"
"It's over," the older healer reassured, petting the tangled, red hair.
"No," Lily whispered, shaking her head. "It won't be over… until he's dead. The Nightmare Lord… it won't be over until he's gone…"
Then she rolled over to her side and closed her eyes tightly.
-o-
James hadn't left Lily's side and so the gathered Order members held a meeting around her bed. Molly Weasley was petting Lily's hair, bristling and clenching her jaws almost as tightly as James did. Molly and Lily were good friends, and it tore at them all to see the strong woman curled up like an infant, looking very small in the hospital bed.
"Well, physically she's alright," Poppy said, checking the charts the healers had left her. "She has been heavily injured but those are long since healed."
"Has she been… I mean, what kind of injuries?" James said.
"Not torture," she said. "Or rape. An abdomen wound, most likely caused by a blade. That's the only major one, the rest are scrapes and bruises. It's her mind they're worried about."
"What do you mean? Has she been under the Crucio spell?"
"No, not what they could find. But her Occlumency shields were torn down," Poppy said. "It seems like spells they haven't been able to identify yet has been used on her mind. Probably the Nightmare Lord, meaning we won't know unless Lily is strong enough to tell us."
"So it's almost certain the Nightmare Lord kidnapped her?" James said.
"There are tiny strains of magic left in her head," Poppy replied. "Not enough for any mind-control, or monitors. It's just leftovers, and it's the Nightmare Lord's signature. If anyone has spells we've never seen before, it's him."
"That bastard got into my wife's head and made a mess out of her. I'll kill him. I don't care if people say he can't be killed, I will kill him."
-o-
Somewhere else, Harrison sneezed. It spread through his damaged cheek and he winced. Lucian put down the tray with lunch and looked him over.
"You're not getting a cold are you?" he said.
"Nonsense. When was the last time I was sick?" Harrison grumbled. "No, it's probably dust… yes, dust. Has this room been cleaned recently?"
"Yes, it has been. Would we neglect our duties?"
Harrison rubbed his nose and shrugged, reaching for the food. Or the thing Lucian called food, which was soup today. Harrison hated soup. It brought back too many bad memories from his childhood. Well, soup and stale bread. And soggy, cold vegetables.
But as his cheek hadn't healed, he wasn't allowed food that required chewing.
"You could at least give me some bread," Harrison muttered. "Soft, buttery bread… yes, that would be quite nice."
"Stop day-dreaming and drink your goddamn soup."
"Evil servant…"
"Yes, yes, I'm horrible. Now, I'm supposed to help Christian so are you going to keep me from it any longer…?"
"No," Harrison sighed. "Go on."
Lucian paused for a bit, bent down and stroke over the healing flesh.
"I still won't forgive her," he whispered and Harrison chuckled.
"I'm not expecting you to do that."
He was left alone after that, and sat back in the chair. He spared a thought to Lily Potter, and wondered where she was now. Had she found her way back to something she knew, or was she still wandering the wilderness? He hadn't damaged her too much, more or less, but he doubted she'd be able to fight for a while, much less raise her wand against him. The damage was more mental than physical anyway.
-o-
They had expected Lily to wake up with a scream, and sobs, and telling them of the nightmare that old lord was. But she didn't.
One moment she was asleep, and in the next she lay with her eyes open. They stared vacantly up at the roof. James jumped up, leaned over her and held her hand.
"Lils, sweetheart? Can you hear me?"
Slowly she nodded.
"Do you want us to get a healer? Do you need anything?"
"Severus… looked alright," she said, moving her eyes over to James. "Looked healthy… happy. Like he did when he was young. Why did that lord say someone I hold very dear attacked Severus?"
"What?" Albus said, leaning closer.
"At that battle, at the camp… he said someone I hold very dear attacked Severus with the intention to kill," Lily spoke in a daze. "That the Nightmare Lord savedSeverus. Why would he say that?"
"To confuse you, my dear," Albus said firmly. "To make you think he has mercy in his soul. Think nothing more of his words."
"But Severus was happy," she stressed. "With him. With that monster."
"He was manipulated," James said. "Snape… he was manipulated of course."
"You didn't see him," she said and pulled her hands to herself, crossed her arms over her chest. "His eyes weren't silver anymore, they were his own. The Nightmare Lord… did save him."
"The Nightmare Lord is a beast of ancient time," Albus said. "He has learnt tricks to appear human."
Lily shivered.
"Trees…"
"Trees?" Sirius looked up. "Did she say trees?"
"A garden," Lily told James, her eyes wide and haunted. "The Nightmare Lord had a garden with trees that lived. Their foul energy was poisoning the earth and the trees grew… they grew those things…"
"Lily, do you remember whereit was?" Albus said. "You say garden, which means you made it out of his manor. Did you recognize anything?"
"His grounds are blackened, there's nothing to see. Dementors aren't born, they are grown on trees like fungus, and he grewDementors in his garden."
Molly, who had been listening, grew pale and put a hand on her chest.
"Albus!" she gasped. "Dear Merlin, what did he put Lily through?"
"Lily," he tried with. "Lily, listen to me. I know this must be tiring, and you have been through a lot… but we need your help."
But she didn't answer, nor did she appear to even hear them. A half-hour later healers concluded she had retreated into her own mind, and the information the Light so desperately wanted from her had to be waited upon until she returned to the living world.
-o-
Harrison held out his hands towards the flames, warming his palms even as Vernon Dursley's screams echoed around the manor. Despite having live, loud firewood, meaning dear Vernon, Harrison was enjoying himself. He was dressed warmly, his trees were thriving next to him and he was burning a person he hated.
Oh, and he had his dear aunt's tongue in the dungeons. Severus had looked at that jar for a long time, and then told him to not put it amongst the potions ingredients. Harrison hadn't planned to. Petunia's tongue was useless in potions, and any potions made with a part of her would surely turn out too vile to consume or use in any way.
The new skin on his cheek itched, still sensitive but he refrained from scratching. Severus wouldn't be very pleased if he did, and wouldn't let Harrison play with Angel. That alone made him able to keep his hands under control. Angel was such a sweetheart he couldn't help but cuddle her close and sneak away from Severus' careful watch.
Not right now though. It was too cold, and the screaming would upset her. Harrison stood up from the chair he had brought out, noting Vernon was growing quieter. The fire was designed to eat away slowly, prolong the process. He wouldn't be dying for a while but it wouldn't do if the pain got so much he couldn't continue to scream anymore. Harrison moved his hands, tweaking at the fire and Vernon's screams rose in volume once more.
"That's more like it," he murmured, smiling. "Sweet music in my ears…"
"More like deafening in my ears," came Elise's voice behind him.
"You need something?" Harrison wondered. Other people would jump at the suddenness of her arrival. He had had many years to get used to it.
"Permission to go to France."
"Like you need my permission."
"Correction then; permission to go to France and kill someone."
"Oh?" Harrison turned around. "You don't usually ask for permission about that either…"
"It's a relative of mine," Elise said. "I swore I'd kill them all. One line managed to survive."
"That obsession of yours… I never told you to kill your relatives, so why are you doing it?"
"Because I want to be the only one alive," she stated.
"Is that so… fine, off you go. Bring something back as a souvenir and by that I don't mean bring back a decapitated head."
"Of course not… I'll leave it on the doorstep of his home."
She vanished and Harrison blinked.
"She's more sadistic than I give her credit for," he muttered and returned his attention to the fire. "How are you holding up, Vernon? Still painful? That's alright, I can make it even more painful."
Vernon didn't appear to be listening to Harrison, who in all honesty didn't mind that much. That meant less vile words coming out of that man's mouth. He had a large reserve of swearwords for people like Harrison, and for a while the Nightmare Lord had genuinely been interested in hearing them. Such imagination inside one boring Muggle.
Harrison moved one hand into a fist and Vernon's screams rose even higher, became hysterical and Harrison laughed to himself.
"I said I could make it even more painful, Vernon. I guess I should tell you that means you have to brace yourself because I'm about to make it more painful. Alright? The next time I say it, make sure to brace yourself. I won't hold back."
The massive head of his uncle moved from side to side, the face twisted in agony. Harrison began to whistle a hearty tune, and moved his fingers to the pace of the flames rising and falling back down.
-o-
"Are you going to keep it that way?"
Harrison, who had been swaying with his hips to put Angel to sleep in his arms, paused momentarily to look at Severus. Angel moved, face twisting and he began once more a slow walk around the room, bouncing her gently. The little girl settled.
"Keep what in that way?"
"The body," Severus replied. "You burned Vernon Dursley two days ago and his skeleton is still put up like a freakish decoration."
"I like it. Gives it a sort of creepy feeling that sends warm tingles down my back."
"… There's something wrong with you."
"Thank you very much."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Not for you perhaps," Harrison said. "I like that people think there's something wrong with me. It makes life so much more fun than if you're boring and sane."
"You've been called crazy a lot?"
"Oh yes, many times. Even when I was young."
"When you were…"
"When I was that boy, yes."
Harrison bore no attachment to the name Harry Potter anymore, and he didn't like much to be reminded of it. He was Harrison now, and had thrown away his real name in his twenties. The lord title had come some years later, after he realized he wasn't aging like a normal person.
That fact had disturbed him back then. Even now as he walked around with Angel in his arms, his own age freaked him out. Harrison took comfort it freaked others out too. His oldest servants, Elise and Lucian, weren't much younger but people often overlooked them, still for reasons unknown. Denial perhaps?
"Master?"
He turned to face Severus. Angel was sleeping, face tucked against his chest, one rosy cheek visible. Harrison put her down gently in a cot, which Elise had gotten from somewhere just as creepily as the crib, and straightened up.
"What?" he finally said. "Do you want to ask me something?"
"No, I… I don't know."
"I bet you don't feel that very often."
"No," Severus admitted. "I don't. I'm not usually the one with the loss for words to say."
"I know that."
They were quiet for a bit.
"When will Bellatrix come out?"
"It varies," Harrison replied and sat down next to the cot. "Some comes out quicker than others. There was one occasion where it took almost two years for the person to come out."
"Two years and that person was still alive?"
"Yes. You don't age in there. You don't live. All you do in that shell is to suffer."
"So she is suffering right now?"
"I would imagine so," Harrison replied. "Does that upset you?"
"On the contrary. Bellatrix might be a brilliant dueller but her attitude would even make the most patient person go insane," Severus said. "I don't know how many times I envisioned poisoning her. Only the lord's wrath kept me from doing it."
"One does not oppose Voldemort without feeling the consequences," Harrison murmured.
"You can," the potions master pointed out. "You can oppose him and he'll be the one with consequences."
"It's a question of will. I have no reason to harm or oppose Voldemort. His task to keep the magical world hidden from Muggles works just fine with me."
"My father was Muggle. I suppose you know that already."
"Yes, I was aware. Does that fact bother you?"
"Not in the sense I feel filthy due to his blood," Severus said. "More I'm glad that the lord wants the Muggles gone from our world. They… don't understand."
"They fear it instead, and from fear grows hate and rage," Harrison finished. "Magic is danger to them, so they will try to eradicate danger. That's the human nature. Would we face a similar threat we would be planning mass murder too. Wizards aren't much better than Muggles; we just happen to be able to wield magic using silly wooden sticks."
Angel squirmed around and began fussing. Harrison placed a hand on her chest and said:
"It's alright, sweet darling. We're here. Calm yourself."
He supposed there was something in his voice that reached the little girl for she settled once more, one hand curling around one of his fingers.
"It's rather amazing seeing you with her, knowing what you really can do."
"Shut up. Don't you have potions to make?"
Severus grinned.
"It's a rather nice reward to see you blush too."
"Oh, you've been talking to Elise and Lucian haven't you?! Those little bastards… stop laughing at me."
"I don't think I will."
"Oh merciful something, I need a new servant."
"Liar, you love us."
Harrison smiled.
"Believe me, I know that."
-o-
Voldemort was at home, reading in the library when the shell around Bellatrix broke. Shouts alerted him to come outside, and he came in time to see her stumble to an upright position. She wasn't hurt; she wasn't shaking or screaming in agony. On the contrary, she was eerily silent. Her head hung down, her heavy hair hiding her face.
Then she looked up. Voldemort saw right into her eyes, and he saw in them, for the first time, fear. Bellatrix was afraid, and she had never been afraid in her entire life, not even as she received the Dark Mark.
Rodolphus was next to her now, still a loyal husband, still a loyal follower. He didn't stop his wife's actions but nor did he approve of them. Voldemort knew the Lestrange family was a good one for his cause, but they had the tendency for arranged marriages that more often than not resulted in disaster or a childless couple. Rodolphus and Bellatrix was a mixture of both.
She was led away from the shell, bent over like an old woman, and as Voldemort approached the shell it began to break apart, turning into fine dust. He kneeled down and scooped some of it up, letting it trickle through his fingers.
He didn't know if Harrison was notified if the shell broke or not, but the Nightmare Lord was in the throne room when Voldemort returned. He was holding a jar, tossing it between his hands and Voldemort quirked an eyebrow.
"Is that a tongue?" he asked.
"Oh, hi!" Harrison held onto the jar. "Yes. It's a tongue."
"Why do you have a tongue in a jar? Wait… do I even want an answer on that?"
"I wanted it, so I ripped it out and stuffed it into a jar. No big deal."
"Right… ah yes, Bellatrix just came out from that shell of yours."
"She did?" Harrison said. "Hmm, rather soon but it never really matters. How did she look?"
"Like a defeated person. Did you just permanently destroy one of my Death Eaters?"
"She'll recover," he said. "She'll be herself, more or less. She will just have learnt not to underestimate me."
"Is that truly what the shell was for?"
"Yes." Harrison tucked away the jar into his robes. "People had this notion they could overpower me, taunt me, even… humiliateme. I killed them for that at first. Then I got this idea… why not create a scenario where people will survive, and tell others tales of the horrors I cause? They'd do all the work and make me known."
Voldemort sat down as Harrison paced around the room, waving his arms around. The Dark Lord didn't know if the Nightmare Lord noticed but magic sparked between his fingers, like lightning.
"So I came up with the shell in the end," Harrison said. "It will throw your personality back at you first, and all horrors you have done. This is why it's useless towards infants, because they don't have any horrors yet! So I couldn't manipulate babies into fear me by instinct. Oh well… experiments are bound to fail sometimes."
"You put infants in a shell like that?" Voldemort said.
"They didn't die," Harrison defended himself. "Or was hurt. I tried it, it failed, I… didn't put the children back from where I stole them, but I gave them away to families who wanted them. I did have a redeeming quality or two."
"What else does the shell do?"
"The horrors include words and action. So everything evil thing Bellatrix has said or done… she experienced that. More or less she tortured herself. Mixed with that is some spells I came up with, to make people realize they can't win against me."
"Did you use this method often?"
"Not really. The shell is a pain in the arse to create but I have used it on a large scale a few times. The magic the shell needs though makes me feel a bit drained though. If I make a lot of them. One is alright. I did put in quite a lot of magic for Bellatrix though."
"Why?
"Because she was fucking annoying and hadn't she been your Death Eater I would have disembowelled her and forced her to eat her own heart before I let her die."
Voldemort seldom felt fear nowadays. He hated that feeling, the one that had nearly done him in when he was young and at the orphanage, at the hands of Muggles who cared nothing for who he was. Once he was old enough, he decided to throw that feeling aside, lock it away. Who did like feeling fear anyway?
But now he felt it creep up his back, making his spine shiver. He looked at Harrison, who started to smile and said:
"I did that to people when I was young. Bad habits die hard I guess."
"How… young?" Hell, Voldemort had never even attemptedthat. Killing them yes, torturing them a bit, well, yes but forcing them to eat their own hearts? Whilst being disembowelled? Bit overkill, if one asked him.
"Thirty? Maybe. I don't know. I've spent a lot of my life killing people. It didn't matter who, just as long as there were people to kill."
Who doesn't remember when they made people do that? Apparently this old lord before him. Voldemort cleared his throat and said:
"So you spared Bellatrix a painful death because of me?"
"Yes. I have servants too, I'd be pissed if an ally would try to kill them," the Nightmare Lord said. "By the way, Lucian taught me about allies. I've never really had any until you."
"You mean you were alone?"
"You have… charisma," Harrison said, turning on the spot. "I have… the ability to make people fear me. You know how to speak to people, motivate them to fight and at the same time, being rather terrifying to Light people. I barely even knew how to motivate myself to get out of bed when I was young. In terms of raw strength, I win. In terms of gaining allies without using fear, you definitely win."
Somehow that sounded… well, for the lack of a better word, sad. Harrison was moving behind the throne now and Voldemort had to control his urge to turn his head so he could see Harrison at all times. He wasn't Harrison's enemy but the man was unpredictable and resourceful and to the point, scary so yeah, Voldemort wasn't at ease just yet having Harrison hover behind him for a longer period of time.
The Nightmare Lord moved on and Voldemort studied him. His face was young, his body fit and fast but his eyes showed his true age. An old man, a tired man. Sometimes they sparked with life, at other times they seemed almost dead. Voldemort had seen it only a few times and hoped Harrison's servants saw it equally as seldom as him. The Nightmare Lord with cold, dead eyes was a sight Voldemort wished to see as little as possible.
"Surely you had someone?" he tried with.
"Never many," Harrison said. "Though, the four founders… they kind of liked me."
Merlin, it was so easy to not think about it, that this man was older than the four founders of Hogwarts! Voldemort knew of Nicolas Flamel, that he had reached the age of 665 before he died, his wife 658. They owed their long life-spans to Flamel's Philosopher's Stone but whatdid Harrison do to stay alive for so long? Voldemort remembered he had asked. No answer had come, and for some reason he felt he shouldn't ask again.
"All four of them?" he said in an attempt to prompt Harrison to speak more, which he did:
"Yes. What was it Rowena said… I had this awkward charm that was quite endearing. Helga just liked me, so did Salazar. Godric was… hesitant at first."
"Because he was Light?"
"What? No, no, not at all. He just didn't know me, didn't quite know what to make of me."
"Did they know that you had killed people?"
"Of course."
"They weren't afraid of you then?"
"Mildly alarmed at first," Harrison said. "I had quite the reputation at the time. But once they got to know me a bit better, they calmed down. I even helped with Hogwarts."
"You did?"
"Yes."
"In what way?" Voldemort wondered.
"It was mostly my idea about the moving staircases," he confessed. "I thought it would be funny."
"Do you know how much trouble those staircases have caused for students?"
"Yes, I know. That's what makes it funny."
"Sometimes you are truly frightening, and then you act like a gleeful child," Voldemort said with a sigh. "You're impossible."
"Oh, am I? Why yes I am."
"See, right there? Gleeful child."
Harrison only smiled, and Voldemort could see why Rowena said he had his charm. It wasn't awkward anymore, that's for sure. That smile drew Voldemort right in. He feared he would be drawn in even if it he knew it was a trap.
-o-
It was not often Harrison was completely alone. He had gone somewhere else though, and asked the servants not to follow him.
The place where he stood now was a pitiful sight. Last time he had seen it, it had been marvellous. Now, ruins was all that was left, and he wandered through them for quite some time, barely feeling the chill of winter even as he walked over crisp snow and his breath fogged white upon him exhaling. At Elise's and Christian's insistence he was wearing a winter cloak with a fur-lined hood and as he didn't recognize it, Harrison suspected it was a recent purchase. He didn't know which one of them had ordered it though.
He pulled off the gloves and put them in his pocket, drawing his fingers over rough stone. He sighed. Before he had his private manor, this place had been where his army gathered.
Yes, he had once had an army. He still had it, if all had gone well and his Inferi were still safe asleep in their lakes and bogs. He would call for them. Then he thought of his children, his Dementors. Harrison had never desired to father a real child, a human baby. First time he ever held a baby he had been in his twenties and that one hadn't even been alive and no, he hadn't killed it.
He was rather sure his parenting skills would suck anyway, since he didn't know a thing about raising children. Dementors were easier. He would coo and lavish them with what little love he had to give, but they didn't need their nappies changed or be hand-fed and burped and all the little things infants needed. No, he just guided them through their first moments of taking happiness away, and taking a soul away. Once they knew that, they didn't need to be guided anymore.
That didn't mean they weren't attached to him. In fact, Harrison hadn't expected to be cuddled with by those creatures, but they seemed to like him enough to do that. People had thought that terrifying. Harrison himself had been happy.
Harrison looked around and saw he had wandered into what had been his own throne room. With one foot he shuffled the snow aside to reveal the floor. His heart ached with the familiar sight, now worn down by time while he stood there, looking as young as ever. He tugged the cloak tighter around him.
The mark on the floor had once been his own. People had compared it to a lightning once and yes, perhaps he had shaped it a bit after his old scar, the one that marked him for life and made him the chew toy of Albus Dumbledore and his bloody Order.
He kneeled down and stroke over the mark, pressing his cold hand against the even colder stone. Then he sighed and said:
"I told you I wanted to be left alone, Lucian, Elise."
His two oldest servants came to a stop behind him.
"Four hours is long enough," Lucian said. "You've been alone for so many years and still desire solitude?"
"I wanted to say goodbye to this home alone."
"It was our home too," Elise said. "It didn't grow into ruins by time alone. People destroyed it, master, but you gave us orders to protect your manor. We still wanted to defend this place. We could have defended them both…"
"I gave you orders, you followed them. This place's death is not your fault." Harrison rose up. "It was my fault. I thought I would let the Light have their little victory, capturing me. I played along at first, and then I became bored which resulted in darkness and solitude. I let this place turn into ruins because I was bored."
"We can rebuild it," Lucian said.
"No. Not all things can last forever," he said and turned to the two of them. "Cheer up, lose those gloomy expressions of yours. I'm about to introduce my manor to my children. What do you say?"
"All of them?" Elise said.
"All of everything," Harrison said. "The Inferi, the Dementors… perhaps I can find something else to wake up. Or maybe I'll make something to wake up the Light with."
"The Inferi… they haven't moved in many years."
"That's why it'll be interesting to see how many of them have made it. Who has waited for me?"
Elise and Lucian looked at each other.
"Please don't say you'll invite the Inferi to our rooms," Lucian said.
"Or yours. They will destroy the sheets on the bed…" Elise continued.
"And the rugs…"
"Not to mention all the clothes if they end up in our wardrobes…"
"Which to be honest, they will end up there because you just had to make Inferi that want to explore. That's unnatural."
"That's interesting. Anyone with a little energy and imagination can make a dead man or woman walk again," Harrison said. "It takes a bit more to make them curious."
"It's still unnatural."
"Yes, and that's the whole point."
Harrison remembered the looks when people realized his Inferi wasn't just dead bodies walking. They wanted to find out more and explore, brave the sun's harsh lights to see how it felt… in his opinion, that made them seem more human and in turn, those Inferi frightened people more.
If there was something people had always hated, it was monsters that appeared human.
"Shall we go back then?" Harrison asked, fishing for his gloves and tugging them on. "You two aren't dressed for the weather."
"And you've been without your gloves for too long," Lucian said. "Come on."
Harrison didn't look back at the ruins as they left.
-o-
It was a rather chilly morning that Voldemort made his way to Harrison's manor with two Death Eaters, one of them being Lucius Malfoy, the other Rabastan Lestrange. He wasn't sure how the Nightmare Lord would feel about him bringing anyone other than Lucius but the wards didn't stop him and when Elise appeared in the hall after their arrival she didn't mention it.
"Is Harrison busy?" Voldemort asked.
"He's outside. Bit of a bad timing actually if you wish to speak with him right now."
"Why's that?"
"He's calling them."
"Them?"
"The children," she clarified.
Rabastan and Lucius looked at each other, then at him and finally at Elise but Voldemort had an idea what she meant and merely turned to walk outside. He passed the garden with the dark trees and now saw great lumps, slowly moving. Here and there he spotted a rotten arm, fingers gripping the trunk of the tree or moving like a slow spider up and down.
Lucius and Rabastan caught up with him but avoided the garden at such length it made Voldemort grin to himself at the sight. Harrison wasn't far away from the garden and the Dark Lord frowned.
The Nightmare Lord's back was bare, his long hair spilling down but not actually warming him up. His discarded cloak and shirt lay near him on the snowy ground.
"You like to undress in freezing weather?" Voldemort asked aloud.
"This is not freezing weather, this is quite nice actually," Harrison replied.
"I wouldn't say so."
"Well, it's a bit cold."
"Put your cloak back on then."
"Can't. I'm sacrificing it."
"To what?"
"A good cause." Harrison turned to look at them.
His eyes were glowing and the tone of his skin was turning ashen, making him look sick. Voldemort was reminded when the Nightmare Lord created those seeds, and frowned.
"It's alright," Harrison said, as if he had read Voldemort's mind. Who knew; he just might have. "I'm quite alright."
"You're calling for the Dementors aren't you?"
"Yes, I am."
"Do you have to be half-naked in order to do so?" Voldemort wondered.
"It's easier. I find fabric constricting when I call for them, it's a rather delicate process and I want to make it as easy as possible for myself."
"I see."
"Good. Now make sure not to stick too close, alright?"
"Why not?"
"You'll see in a while," Harrison promised him.
And Voldemort did.
It took a minute or two before Harrison's skin was starting to glow with magic, and he stretched out his arms. His bright eyes closed and the light pushed outside his body, forming a bubble and Voldemort took a step back. The Dark Lord had never seen anyone call for anything in that manner. Calling his Death Eaters was done through their mark. He had never thought of any other method.
How did one exactly callfor Dementors anyway? Could they see or notice Harrison's magic for some reason? Voldemort had no knowledge what held them at Azkaban, why they had never gone after their maker after he had been captured by those who gave birth to the Ministry. Had he for some insane reason told them to stay away?
Shapes were moving over the snow, coming closer. Black shapes, great dark garbs hiding gangly creatures. Voldemort began to back up even more, Rabastan and Lucius following his lead.
It had to be over a hundred Dementors coming closer, their rotten arms outstretched. From their wide-open mouths came a sound, like a terrible shriek that Voldemort had never heard before. It was making the dark trees shiver in the clear, cold air and Voldemort slowly drew his wand. Dementors usually left free dark wizards and witches alone but he wouldn't go as far as completely relax around these creatures.
He realized a minute later he could have danced naked in front of them and the Dementors wouldn't give a damn. It would have given Harrison something to laugh about but the Dark Lord doubted those creatures had even registered him and the two Death Eaters. Instead they crowded Harrison, petting his hair, a few going so far as to pick him up and hugging him. One pulled off its garbs, revealing its hideous looks and wrapped the black fabric around Harrison.
"Thank you, dear," was his only comment.
More Dementors came, all trying to get closer to Harrison, their hands pulling at each other and the sounds were like a chanting mantra. Harrison laughed and called out:
"I'm not going anywhere, calm yourselves! Oh, this will take a while won't it… yes, yes, I missed you lot too. Oi, don't go biting each other!"
Voldemort didn't even know Dementors had teeth to bite with.
"He might be busy for quite some time," Elise said from behind them. "Would you like to come inside and wait? I can make you tea."
"That would be lovely."
"Do you have urgent business with him?"
"No, not urgent. I just have nothing urgent waiting for me today."
"Good, because quite some time can mean the rest of the day," Elise said. "Right now they seem to want to smother him with affection."
"Do Dementors love?" Voldemort wondered as they walked back into the warm manor.
"They love master," she replied as she shut the doors. "I'm not sure if they feel anything else but that. A good advice; don't make any sudden movements towards master that can be seen as a threat."
"They'll try to harm us?" Voldemort asked.
"No, they won't try," Elise said and shrugged. "Most likely they'll take your soul."
"And what happens to the soul… after that?"
She looked at him.
"I don't think you want to know what happens to the souls," she said, and that was it.
-o-
Harrison was surrounded by his children, his Dementors. He felt them press closer, felt the joy they had taken bleed into him through the skin. He laughed out loud, stretched his arms wide and felt their rotten hands grabbing hold. Their terrible faces were the sweetest sight in his eyes, and his laughter made them utter sounds of contentment. To others it was nothing but a shriek. To him it was heaven.
It was only now he started to realize how much he had missed them. And not just the Dementors. For so many years he had contented himself to sit in a dark cell, completely missing out his servants' company, the Dementors roaming around his house… hell, even the Inferi even if they weren't the liveliest bunch to hang around with.
The old gardens were all gone now, hundred of trees growing new Dementors… Harrison remembered hearing one such garden disappear into flames. People thought they weren't conscious, that the Dementors weren't aware of their own existence until they detached from the tree. That wasn't true. He had heard the trees screaming, the undeveloped Dementors screeching words normal people would never hear and understand.
Don't let me die, maker.
I don't want to disappear.
Maker, make it stop hurting.
Why does it hurt?
Harrison's thoughts and those dark memories were pushed away as he was lifted high up in the air by them. He laughed again, felt them all around him.
But there was one in particular he was interested in when they finally let him down. People didn't see differences in Dementors but Harrison could tell them all apart. They were all different in looks and behaviour in his mind, and this one was a special one.
He had no idea how Dementors came into existence when he started all this. The trees came up later as a method to grown them, but the first one… when the time came to begin it all, Harrison had to ask himself how one created a completely new species out of nothing. The very first Dementor was something he had grown by himself, caring for it like one cared for an infant. He had watched his new creature grow from a seed to a being two feet taller than himself.
His very first Dementor, ancient to today's people, still a child in Harrison's eyes. Respected by other Dementors they gave way as it moved closer, hands reached out. Harrison took the hands and said:
"Oh, you lot… you're making me blush. Welcome home, children."
-o-
When Harrison came back inside it was dark and he carried the cloak over his arm. Behind him his first child moved, the Dementor feeling the walls and the paintings, ghosting over cases and panicking when he moved too fast.
He swept into the living room, startling Lucius and Rabastan badly while Voldemort turned page in a book. Harrison put the cloak down on a chair and snapped his fingers, sending the fire into a frenzy heat before saying:
"Bloody hell, I'm freezing."
"Standing outside for hours half-naked has a tendency to do that to people," Voldemort replied, putting down the book. "I see you have one Dementor with you. Where's the rest?"
"Safe and sound. They're sleeping. This one didn't want to leave though."
"Is it one of the new ones?" the Dark Lord asked.
"Quite the opposite."
The three looked at him so Harrison elaborated:
"I raised this one myself when I was young. It was no bigger than my fingernail at its birth and now… well, to be fair it outgrew me before it was a year old."
The Dementor moved closer and put its rotten hands on his shoulders.
"Are you saying that one is over a thousand years old?" Voldemort said.
"Yes, I believe I am. They are sort of immortal after all."
"What do you mean, sort of?"
"Meaning I don't know what kills them." Or if anything can kill them. Harrison wasn't about to try it out. If he would accidently kill one of his children… well, let's not go there. Upset would be a severe understatement.
"Aren't you uncomfortable with it that close?" Rabastan dared to ask.
"Why would I be?" Harrison wondered.
"Isn't it cold? Being near a Dementor makes it cold."
"Never to me."
"Why?" Rabastan demanded to know. "What makes you different?"
"I'm their father. The joy they take from other humans, they usually gave it to me," Harrison said. "Souls too. Good times."
The Dementor made a sound, a screech that made Lucius jump and Rabastan draw back.
"Yes, those were good times," Harrison said and turned around. "You should sleep some. Go on. You know I'll be nearby."
It hesitated before drawing Harrison closer and wrapping its gangly arms around him before moving to the cloak.
"What is it doing?" Voldemort asked.
"Just look at the cloak."
The Dementor reached out and grabbed onto the cloak, spreading it a bit. The blackness of the fabric seemed bottomless all of a sudden, and the creature put its arm inside. And it sank down, the body following and before their eyes the Dementor vanished… into the cloak.
"What was that?" Voldemort said, rising up.
"Dementors didn't roam the world in my youth," Harrison said. "I made them a home. The idea of a cloak came later, when I realized they didn't like being away from me. Of course, fabric wears out so I have to remake it once every few years."
"What do you mean by that?"
"That cloak is their home, their perfect environment," Harrison said and walked over to armchair in which the cloak laid. He picked it up and smiled. "They're never away from me, and I can always feel them."
"Why do you make them disappear in the first place?"
"If you see a monster, you deal with the monster," the Nightmare Lord stated. "But if you know a monster exists, but never see it… their nerves will be shattered."
"That can't be all."
"These children are mine." Harrison turned around. "I'll make people regret they were forced or coerced into working at Azkaban. A prison is not their home. They exist to steal joy yes, but they are my children and their place is with me. I didn't take them back in the beginning, but now they're here. They all came."
"Why would they?" Rabastan said, gaining some confidence when the ancient Dementor was gone. "You abandoned them. Got yourself caught. Why the hell are they still returning to you?"
The cloak rippled, like waves and out of the blackness the Dementors came, mouths open and the screeching made all of the men, with the exception of Harrison, cover their ears. Before they could attack Rabastan they stopped, and as one the Dementors drew back inside.
Voldemort caught a glance of magic leaving Harrison's free hand, and he waited until all Dementors had moved back before saying:
"I was a lonely person once. I didn't make these children loyal; they saw that part of me and vowed to never abandon me. Do not question that part of them. They feel insulted when someone tries to make it look like they are not loyal to me. Now… was this a social call? Do you have any plans for Yule, Voldemort?"
Tbc…
I hope you enjoyed!
Chapter fourteen: Harrison has more allies that will answer his calls, and he runs into both Order members and Aurors transporting families. What will he do?
Until later,
See ya,
Tiro