The Nightmare Man's Journey
Summary: Sequel to The Nightmare Man, set ten years later. Under the rule of the Dark Lord Voldemort, much still remains the same. Yet rebels still exist, and they fight to remove Voldemort's ally, the Nightmare Lord. Will they succeed?
Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of violence and gore, OOC-characters, dark!Harry, time travel and other such stuff.
It's good if you've read the prequels The Nightmare Man and Birth of a Nightmare Man, or some confusion might occur.
Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money writing fanfiction.
The sequel is here! The events in Fractured Time have already happened, and thus there is two Rabastan and two Draco here. I'll try to keep the confusion down. Harrison will refer the two from his original timeline as "his Rabastan" and "his Draco" because yeah, he's possessive.
It was a lovely spring day. The sun was warm, the summer not far off, and all was very calm and lovely.
The Nightmare Lord, also known as Harrison, didn't care. What he did care about was the potion he had just poured into a goblet, hoping said goblet wouldn't melt in his hand. The potion was still bubbling away, almost to the point of fizzing. At least the smoke had cleared up, and the affects of said smoke had gone away. The room was only tinted a little bit green.
Alright, so it hadn't completely disappeared, but it was better than twenty minutes ago when the walls were oozing green and everything was slightly off-kilter. Also, there had been strange, buzzing sound. Or was it still there?
"What is in that goblet, master?"
Drat. Harrison looked up, and Elise had already taken her stern stance; feet steady on the ground, hands on her hips and a glare in her silvery eyes. A glare that said that no, he wouldn't be allowed to test the potion on himself.
"If I tell you I wasn't going to drink it, will I escape your nattering?" he asked.
"You were going to drink it."
"Was not," he lied.
"Was too," she replied. "Hand it over, master."
"I've just made it; I don't even know what it does!"
"Excellent point as to why you won't test it."
"Come on, it's just bubbling a little bit," he tried with.
"That's not a little bit, and it smells foul," Elise said. "Also, your eyes are glassy. The smoke alone is affecting you."
"It's gone now."
"So you admit it had an affect?"
Well, he had walked himself into that trap rather easily. So Harrison sighed and handed it over to her before rubbing his eyes. They were itchy.
"Will you be angry if I stab myself in the eyes?" he wondered a minute later when the itch was still there.
"Yes, I will be, master. Go take a walk outside. Poke at the plants in the garden."
He wasn't good with plants. Unless they were rotten trees that grew Dementors. Then he was very good with plants. Wait, did trees count as plants, or were they just trees?
"Because this is your third potion in the last six hours, and at this point you aren't even trying to make something useful."
She was right, he had just chopped up things to see what would happen if they mixed in a cauldron.
"Severus will be most displeased," Elise continued with.
"He always is when it comes to me and potion-making," Harrison replied.
"It's because you always drink the end results, no matter how sick it makes you."
"The last one wasn't so bad."
"By last one, master, do you mean the one where you passed out and nearly choked on your own vomit?"
Harrison shrugged and replied:
"It could've been worse?"
"It could've been blood from my organs dissolving."
"The thing is," Elise interrupted, "is that you have these circles that need to be broken."
"The circles where you keep trying to die without really thinking about it. You've suffered through those periods before." Harrison opened his mouth to protest and Elise pinned him with a look. "So often, in fact, that we've made a chart. Would you like to see it, master?"
He wouldn't put it past his servants to have made a chart of his reckless abandonment with his life, just to prove a point.
"Fine, I'll take a walk around the garden," he said. "But at least test the potion for me. Not on yourself."
"Will do so, master. I will let you know what it does when you return. Also, there is a letter from Voldemort waiting for you in your room."
"You didn't think it was important to inform me about that first?"
"It specifically says on the envelope that it isn't important," Elise told him.
"Oh… I'll read it later then."
Harrison left the manor through a window, because it was closer than any door and it was his own manor; he could leave it however he wanted. The sun's warmth was enough for him to roll his sleeves up and unbutton his vest, glad to have left his robes in the dungeons.
He didn't think there would come a time where he felt the manor was quiet, but it was. The children were at school, Lucy at Hogwarts and Angel in a Muggle boarding school. He and the servants had tried travelling with Angel back and forth every day for school, but the only transportation she could handle day after day was flying and that took so long Harrison put her in a good boarding school instead. Not that she was alone there; Ywgraine had taken up residence close by, and Harrison himself visited both Angel and Lucy on the weekends. Like a parent. He supposed he was their parent. Their half-crazy, immortal father who experimented on people when he was bored.
Or tried to kill himself, when he didn't find anything else to do. At least he remembered to lock the door when the kids were home.
But yes, the manor was kind of quiet when they were at school. Harry had already graduated and was working at Hogwarts, along with Severus, so they were gone as well. The servants were still there, of course, and so were Rabastan and Draco from his original timeline so he wasn't alone. Never alone.
Also, there was always Fred and George, who had gone on to start a joke shop like they had planned to do; perhaps Fred and George in all dimensions had that idea. Whenever they were home, the manor was never quiet. Those twins didn't know the meaning of quiet. Maybe they did it just to irk him. No, they definitely did it to irk him, and he let them. Towards some people, he had definitely mellowed out.
Harrison shook his head and wandered on. He passed Severus' herb garden, which he didn't touch; Severus entrusted its care to Lucian when he wasn't there himself and Harrison knew his care might as well kill the poor herbs so he just didn't do anything.
Then a vegetable garden, started by Elise. For her picky master, she would say. She said it with fondness too. She roped Angel and Lucy into helping, and forced Harrison to eat things he rather didn't just to make sure that the kids would eat them too.
The sun did help calm him down a little. So he strolled on, thinking of nothing as he set one foot before the other. It was rather soothing to not think for a little bit.
Once he felt better, at least for the moment, he went back inside to read Voldemort's letter. He sat down on the bed as he opened the letter. The parchments held information from meetings in the Ministry, and Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Politics," he muttered.
He had done little to involve himself. What use was he in politics anyway? He didn't have the tact for it. Voldemort knew how to charm crowds without the usage of fear and raw power. He could manipulate people's words into his own advantage, and Lucius was no amateur at that either. The man had snaked his way to the top, and now when he was Minister, he used silken words to settle ruffled feathers.
Harrison would be more trouble than any help, to be honest. Still, he read through the notes Voldemort had written down for him, in an effort to keep himself somewhat in the loop.
A fraction of the Ministry has begun to rise against the notion of Nightmare Lord, calling his powers and supposed immortality into question. After a mere ten years, they didn't believe he was an immortal being.
Just like old times. Only now it was presenting as a problem; Harrison had allies this time. Allies he had an interest in keeping. Voldemort and Lucius, he considered them his. If this persisted, they would take political damage if the Ministry was split into groups over this little debate.
He would have to start caring about politics, didn't he?
Harrison moaned in despair and fell back on the bed. He hadn't even read all of the information but he knew the gist of the rest from earlier.
Rebels. Damn rebels, still using Albus Dumbledore's name to fight the dark. Dark and light, how ridiculous that such notions still remained. Dark and light magic. Magic was magic. He supposed there were dark spells, but they were dark because they were used to harm people.
He had once believed it himself, that there was a difference. But no, magic was what you shaped it into. Still, people fought in the name of light magic. The good magic. Yes, yes, he had been told using spells that were dark damaged you, and that must be true because he was truly damaged but still… oh, why did he even start thinking about it?
"This is tiring," he informed the ceiling.
He looked at the door. Draco Malfoy, his Draco, leaned against the doorway. Only a few years older than this dimension's Draco, yet profoundly different.
"I hate politics," Harrison told him.
"Who doesn't?" Draco replied and came into the room, hands in his pockets.
"And I hate thinking about dark and light magic."
"There is no such thing as that," Draco said.
"Yes, I know that and you know that but not everyone knows that and by not everyone I mean the rebels don't know that. Or at least, they refuse to acknowledge that."
"They refuse to acknowledge a lot of things. Move over."
"This is my bed."
"I know, now move over."
"You're a menace," he informed Draco as Draco sat down next to him. "I hope you know that."
"I'm perfect," Draco scoffed. "I heard about the rebels. They're on the move apparently."
"Aren't they always on the move on the account that our side is chasing them?"
"They're doing something, I mean. Preparing some plan that they probably think will save them, overturn the Ministry and bring back the good, old days."
"My good, old days had a lot of murder and mayhem in them," Harrison said.
"Their good, old days, with Albus Dumbledore being the beacon of light."
"Oh, those days."
"Yes, those. Not that I knew their good, old days. I just knew our good, old days. Not sure how much different they were."
Harrison didn't really know either. He knew mostly how different Harry's life had been from his own. How much better it had been. Harry could still talk about his parents, from when he was smaller. Harrison let him talk. It didn't hurt to hear about them, a set of parents Harrison never knew.
His own most likely hated him, if they had any knowledge what Harrison had done. Both to his own friends, and then later as the Nightmare Lord.
"Now it's getting depressing," he said and sat up. "Don't you have pesky patients to take care of, healer Malfoy?"
"Just got home," Draco said. "Father and mother invited me to dinner."
If Lucius and Narcissa found it strange to have two sons named Draco in their lives, they didn't show it. Instead they had embraced Harrison's Draco, the one that lost his parents to an unknown timeline, in a world he could never get back to. It had surprised Harrison to hear what chaos he had left behind, and he did feel sorry that Draco had lost his parents when they were so close to get to this dimension, all four of them.
"Best that you freshen up then," he said instead of mentioning anything else.
"You won't be lonely?"
"I'm sure I'll manage. You forget I spent a few centuries locked up in a cell, all by myself. Well, me and some dripping water. And a bloody uncomfortable stone chair."
"That's why I'm asking."
"I'll be fine," he reassured. "There's always someone here to nag at me."
"They only nag because they care," Draco said. "Elise told me about your potion adventures."
"Don't you dare tell Severus."
"Oh, I'll tell him. In great detail."
"You weren't here when I made them," Harrison protested.
"And I can be quite convincing," Draco replied.
"I hate you."
"Sure you do," Draco said and rose up. "Don't be annoying at dinner."
"Annoying is my name," he said and Draco laughed. "Traitor."
"Whatever you say."
Voldemort didn't announce his visits to Harrison's manor much anymore. The Nightmare Lord was usually at home anyway, and if not, Elise or Lucian knew where he was most of the time and how to get him to come back home quickly (blackmail, mostly).
As it was now, Voldemort found Harrison in a smaller sitting room, book in his hands and a wobbly-looking pile of books balancing on the table next to him. Once he got close enough, Voldemort straightened the pile and Harrison looked up.
"I got your letter," he said. "Politics are boring. How do you stand it?"
"It's a necessary evil to keep a civil world."
"Says the one who started a war."
"I don't want any advice from you. You ignored politics and just killed whatever you felt like killing."
"Point taken. Have a seat. Drink?"
Voldemort sat down in another armchair right next to Harrison's, as Harrison put the book on top of the pile before pouring Voldemort a drink. Harrison rarely drank anything alcoholic himself. He could have a drink or two, or get himself roaring drunk, but it was never his first choice of drink.
"Thank you," Voldemort said as he took the glass from Harrison. "Did you read about the rebel situation?"
"Isn't the thing at the Ministry important too? You can't afford different fractions amongst the Ministry personnel."
"It's not that serious yet," Voldemort replied.
"But it's there," Harrison said. "I feel like I have to get involved in politics just to shut up those who doubt me."
"You hate politics."
"Yes, but I do like you and Lucius, and it would be quite rude of me to not help those I consider my allies."
"We'll deal with it in due time. The rebels are getting bolder."
"What else is new?"
"I hate to say this, but that Granger girl isn't bad," Voldemort said. "She has the right mind."
"Oh, I know," Harrison said. "You shouldn't underestimate her, even though she's so young. Even I shouldn't underestimate her. She can have quite a few tricks up her sleeve, and she's ruthless when there's something she wants done."
"You weren't concerned with Fudge, or Dumbledore."
"I was reckless when dealing with them. I have too much at stake nowadays to be that reckless."
"So you admit to your own stupidity?" Voldemort wondered.
"Well, yes, I suppose I do."
Only a century or two from two thousand years old, and Harrison was coming to terms with the fact he was a reckless idiot at times, and that there was something deeply wrong with his mind. He wanted to live, yet sometimes fought half-heartedly in duels and battles to see if someone could kill him.
Like with Fudge, when Fudge still lived. He lost organs, purely because he hadn't fought seriously. Hadn't taken Fudge seriously.
Harrison didn't know if he'd be that reckless in a fight now. He hadn't done much fighting over the last ten years. Maybe he'll say all of that, how he has too much at stake, and yet be as reckless as usual.
Having Lucy and Angel, as well as having Harry, George and Fred hadn't made him stop trying to die. Not even after Draco and Rabastan came through to this dimension had he fully stopped.
"My mind is quite damaged, I believe," Harrison said. "I don't know if I want to live or not."
"As old as you are, I believe it's within your rights to explore those kinds of thoughts."
"I've had those thoughts for a very long time," Harrison said. "But I do believe the years have played their part in my insanity. People aren't meant to live this long."
"Let's not get depressing right now. What would you suggest we do with the rebels?"
"Slaughter them. But you need to find them first."
"They're always on the move," Voldemort said. "However, there's something new."
"That they're getting bolder?"
"Yes, that, and also… they're experimenting with something. Maybe they're trying to create something. A tool against us, or something in that nature."
"Sounds annoying," Harrison said.
"We're mostly focusing on finding them, but if we do… are you willing to give us a hand in that battle?"
It's strange that Voldemort asked. But Harrison had made an effort to not antagonize the Muggle world by being himself and destroying things whenever he felt bored. He tried to do the same with the magical world as well, to the point he sort of understood why people thought he wasn't who he said he was. All those rumours, and the Nightmare Lord had practically lived the last ten years as a shut-in.
"Of course," he replied. "I'll be there."
Neither of them realized at the time, that that was what the rebels were counting on.
To be continued…
First chapter complete!
Chapter two: The rebels make a move, and their target is the Nightmare Lord.
See you later,