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Tweak says, "Are you coming or going?"

Aeneas "snogged Atticus" Nott (naught) wrote in blurred_epilog,
@ 2009-10-14 18:59:00

Entry tags:

! azkaban, ! log, ! narrative, aeneas nott

Who: Aeneas Nott
When: 28 December, 1999.
Where: Azkaban and the Ministry of Magic
What: Epilogue
Rating: PG

28 December, 1999.

It was nearly a few days short of two decades from the time Aeneas Nott left Azkaban the first time that he stepped out of the wizarding prison, a free man for the second time in his life. Aurors flanked each side of him as they escorted him to a portkey that would take him to the Ministry - no longer his Ministry - to return his few personal belongings and finish up the paperwork required to finalise his release. The December air felt cold against his face and Aeneas shivered automatically though he barely recognised the cold. His cell had been cold for so long he no longer could remember what warmth was - seasons did not exist in Azkaban.

The pulling feeling from the portkey was no longer familiar to Aeneas and upon arriving inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the combination of the heat and the motion nearly made Aeneas sick and he silently cursed the weak skeleton of a man that he had become. The various secretaries and law enforcement official in the office were staring at him, yearning to get a glimpse of the infamous ex-Minister, and the older man felt suddenly self-conscious, another forgotten feeling.

They gave him the terms of his release and his possessions back and Aeneas nodded numbly at their words, faintly aware that they likely were none too happy about his new freedom, but he could not bring himself to care - it was difficult enough to handle the new sensations, the lack of a howling wind or sobs and moans from the other cells. His clothes were returned to him, musty and still covered in dried blood from the day he was captured and likely to fall right off his bony frame, the purse he carried with him, the letter from his wife sent to him upon her death, and his wand. They escorted him to the Atrium, gave him a pinch of Floo Powder and told him to have a good day.

Aeneas stepped up to the fireplace, the Floo powder in one hand and his belonging all clenched in the other. He was free, but now what? The last time he left Azkaban he had Atticus at his side and his wife and children waiting for him at his home, but Atticus was still inside the prison, his wife was dead, his house burnt to the ground, and his children were gone, entrusted to his niece and now all grown up. No one was waiting for him this time; no one was left who would be glad to hear of his release. He briefly wondered if perhaps it would have been easier to have just remained in Azkaban for the remainder of his life and if the Aurors would return him if they asked, but he remembered the letter clenched in his fist and the gift his wife had given him upon her death, the gift of a claimed Imperius that shortened his sentence from life to merely 20 years.

"A problem, Nott?" one of the Aurors asked - Shacklebolt, he remembered. He had a tail now, for some reason. The other Auror was younger - much younger, perhaps even his son's age. Theodore would be 21 soon, if Aeneas had the year correct, a man for some years now. Aeneas wondered if he would recognise him. Or his daughters, who were surely no longer the adoring little girls he knew. They might even be married, he realised. He could reasonably be a grandfather, and he had no clue.

"No problem," he gruffed, his voice hoarse and weak from years of disuse. He gave the Atrium a glance-over, finding very little had changed since he had last seen it, back when he was still the Minister. His eyes passed over the spot where he had been captured and he realised he would be content if he never saw it again - if he never saw Britain again. There was no longer anything he cared about in the country that wasn't still locked away in Azkaban, not even his wine collection in the basement of Lestrange Manor. No, he was done.

"Knockturn Alley," he said as he threw the powder into the fire and watched it turn green. He would buy new clothes, take the rest of the money out of his Gringott's account, and then he would find his family. Perhaps he could even be happy again. Or perhaps just content. He was not sure if it was possible, but it did not trouble him much - if it came down to it, there was always poison.