Masquerade Intermission
Number Three
A/N: This is the third intermission, meant to divide the third act of the story from the fourth one. Initially I wasn't going to go for a fourth act but then I didn't get to fit everything that I wanted to in the third one, so thus, the fourth one.
In all honesty, he never should have done it. Never should have tempted fate and then beat it, because it had only made his life ten times worse. Or whatever this joke of an existence he was living now could be called.
He had thought he had been so clever, defeating the judges at their own riddles and then breaking free of that damned hotel. He had laughed his head off too when he had finally escaped, but the judges had had the last laugh, because it hadn't been the life he had once had that he was returning to, but something dark and soul wrenchingly painful to bare.
And he hated it.
With all his heart. If he still had one at this point.
He couldn't tell.
The judges had taken everything from him. Starting from his life, to his wife, to his kids, to his family and friends and then to his joy and sanity. Taken everything, drained him to the last drop of his humanity and now here he was, just an empty shell of his past self, wandering the earth, forever a puppet to the judges whims. And he hated it. Hated it so much. Yes, they had taken everything but not this bitter deep seated resentment that ate away at him each day, at each hour, each minute. And he had a lot of time to be eaten up by resentment. He would know because he had wandered this cursed existence of his for years, years and years. Four hundred years, five and a half months, twenty three hours, forty five minutes and twenty seconds to be exact. Now twenty one seconds. Twenty two. Twenty three...
He thought his suffering would never end, although to be fair he had sort of grown immune to it. There was only so much a person could take before all the horrors of the world desensitized him. And there had been many horrors. Some so terrible he could never had imagined them. And he would always have to be there at the very damned moment that these people took their last shuddering breath, their eyes losing focus, their hearts slowing. He would always be there for their last moment no matter the situation or squalor they were in. Decapitation, disease, dismemberment, murder, homicide, suicide...the list went on and frankly he did not want to revisit it now.
Humans weren't the only ones who suffered terribly. Witches and wizards did too and he saw it all. Except they were mutilated by magic, so it made the job somewhat cleaner, but not any less pleasant. He oft had to wonder what ran in people's minds when they did such terrible things. If only they walked a day in his shoes, they would understand. They would want to cease their fighting. He had thought the human wars were bad enough. During his time serving the second and first world war, he had seen enough guts to stretch and wrap around the whole globe three times. He had seen enough tears to fill all the world oceans. He had seen enough blood that he always avoided the color red whenever he could. But the wizard wars were worse. And why was that?
Because he had once been a wizard.
Yes, one that was highly esteemed. One that had money. Smarts. The good looks and the charm to make them work. So it hurt him the most when he saw his fellow wizardkind fighting among each other. Did they not already know their numbers were dwindling? That the humans were outracing them in terms of number of populace? That one day the wizards would cease to exist if they kept up this tradition of murdering themselves? They should turn their anger outwards, they should be more concerned with humans and how those people would exploit magic if it was ever found. But no, wizardkind remained deeply and ignorantly entrenched in their own affairs. And it would ruin them.
Yet, he could tell no one, warn no one of what would happen to them if this solution was not reached. And not even the smartest wizard, Dumbledore, thought to bring this to an end. Instead, another war had broken out and he had been forced to watch as it decimated the wizard populace. No more, he had one day begged the judges, the ones who had prolonged his tormented state of being. They merely waved a hand at him, dismissing him.
"You chose your path," they intoned in unison. "You only have your selfish desire for life to blame for your current predicament. You must now suffer for all eternity until there are no more who shall die, or you must wait for someone to come take your place, and that option, is highly unlikely."
He had despaired at those words. Numb he might be to the pain and suffering of people, but he was not yet numbed to his own pain and suffering. But even with time that eventually left as well until he was empty, coldly calculating to find those who might eventually take his place. He knew it was foolish to hold hope that he could find someone like that one day, still humans and wizards alike are foolish when it comes to matters of hope. Hope always clings to a person longest; it is the last to leave and the hardest to chase out.
So it was centuries before the hope in his chest began to dwindle. And just when the brittle hope in his chest was going to actually die out, he found someone. Someone perfect to take his place. He only had to help them. Help them from the prison they were in that he too had been in. It wasn't easy. He couldn't let his influence be seen by the watchful eyes of the judges, and he was pressed for time given his job constraints. In the end all that was needed was a little push and the person had connected things one by one, leading them on the path he wanted them to join.
His hope bubbled up in his chest and rose out of his mouth in a dry cackle, since it had been a century since he had lost spoke. He was going to be freed from these chains shortly and the release would be sweet. And he knew he had chosen the right person; they defied his expectations. They were smart, conniving, resourceful and a fighter. They were surely guaranteed to win against the games the hotel played. He showed them the secret rooms, he helped them get their wand back. And when they got stuck in the holding cells of the hotel then he made sure to free them. He gave them a second chance to succeed and they did not disappoint, surprising him with something entirely new that he had never considered.
"Two for one, two for one," he cackled like a madman as he rubbed his hands in glee and slinked off to aid them secretly once more in their bid to escape.