Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Goldeye waved his hand dismissively in Dale's direction, "Oh, the little schoolboy is having a tantrum. Pshaw." He dropped the hand to the glass on the table next to him, filled with some sort of brown liquid. Nickarlen wasn't exactly sure what it was but it did taste awfully nice, in burn-your-mouth-and-make-you-want-to-die sort of way. He lifted it, looking at the contents curiously.

"Besides, death is death," Goldeye explained, matter-of-factly. "Whether we go with dignity or not matters little, because people don't care if you die with dignity. They care if you die with bravery, honour and valor. They only care if you died a good person." He glanced over the rim of his glass at Dale. "Which means you're fucked." He took a sip of the drink.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale didn't believe it. If Goldeye didn't care about dignity, why then would he be dressed to the nines, have put such consideration into the setting in which he died? Then again, maybe it was just for his own amusement, and he really was as crazy as they said. Dale pressed on, doing his best to ignore Goldeye's jeers. He paced around the room, pretending to be only idly curious in everything that was going on.

"You knew this was happening..."

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

"For a while now," Goldeye explained, setting the drink down. "It actually came in a series of visions, one by one. I Saw the clock, so I knew what the time would be and I also Saw the crowds, so I knew the date. The rest was simply a matter of putting my affairs in order, quietly." He folded both of his hands in his lap, "I am quite fortunate. Not everybody gets the chance to prepare for their murder but I've managed to sort out my legal affairs."

He observed Dale closely, his eyes showing his bemusement. "I trust my grandson was courteous? He was quite distraught when he came to me with his Visions of him leading my killer to the tower and moreso when I explained to him he had to do it. But he's strong. He understands his purpose. I'm proud of him."

He kept watching Dale, attempting to think of more ways to put him on edge. "What about your children? What legacy will you leave behind?" It was a hunch, but as soon as he said, Goldeye felt certain he had struck a nerve.

[Dale Matthews]

"Maybe you can tell me." Dale said, still calm despite the frustration brewing inside of him. "Cindy Matthews. A Hufflepuff. I am dead to her now, you realize that? You - you and your Wizengamot, sentenced me to Azkaban, and now she refuses to talk to me."

He darted back across the platform until he was well and truly in the old man's face. "That's why I'm here to kill you, Professor Torlen. You sentenced me to two years in hell. HELL, Torlen. Do you know what that place is like? What it does to a man? I had a life before you sent me to that place. Now I can never be free. You turned me into a man with nothing to lose. So now? You pathetic mudbloods and all of your apologists will be purged, and all at my hands if need be. Just to spite you. Because I'm just that kinda guy."

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Goldeye sat back comfortably in his chair, trying to look at non-perplexed as possible. He considered yawning for a second but then dismissed the idea. In any case, he now knew for certain who this man was. Matthews was indeed the name of a Death Eater he had sentenced years back. Still...there were errors in his logic that this Professor wanted to discuss.

"So..Wizengamot sentences you to prison," Goldeye began. "For taking part in an unprovoked attack on a civilian village, where people were murdered and their homes lost. And you blame me. Why me, specifically, among the court? And why do you blame anyone except yourself? We did not force you to become a murderer, to push your daughter away from you. You could of found legal ways of representing conservative ways of thinking rather than ridiculous extremes."

He paused, allowing what he said to sink in. He didn't want to lecture him too much, some people just blanked out and ignored what was being said. "I spent most of the Second War in that prison. Your club despises people who save lives, it seems." He tapped his fingers on the armchair. He really did hate Death Eaters.

He gave Dale a long steady look. "Ah, yes. I see it now. You're a coward. You blame everyone and everything except yourself for all your mistakes. Muggleborns, Halfbloods, Wizengamot, me, Azkaban. You're so determined not to take responsibility you'll kill other people to convince yourself. Well, I don't give a damn about what you think you deserve." He smiled.

"Repentance is beyond you now. Fate won't give you another chance. You're going to die, soon. And that's not a prophecy, that's a promise." Goldeye stared daggers at Dale. He'd never felt so cold in his life, so sure of himself. Maybe that really was a prophecy he just made. The thought made him feel hopeful.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale had moved away and began pacing the room while Goldeye spoke. He didn't want to look at him, but he didn't want to interrupt, either. He knew that most of what Goldeye said was right. His manner kept him quiet, but he couldn't contain his rage forever.

And that's not a prophecy, that's a promise..

Dale turned suddenly, wide-eyed and frightening. "Are you done!?"

He pulled Goldeye by the robes, up and out of his chair, spitting in his face as he spoke. "You think you're so fucking clever!?!" With both hands he flung Goldeye across the room and into the drinks cabinet. The floor was showered with glass and rich liquids. For a moment the clock seemed to stop ticking.

Dale towered over the old man, watching him with contempt. "You are but the first, Professor Goldeye. Anyone who was on the Wizengamot that day will be killed." He shrugged flippantly, sarcastically. "I mean I see your point, Professor. That's a lot of witches and wizards, you're right, you must feel awfully privileged to be first amongst them. I guess I figured I'd start at the bottom with you, the senile mudblood. The one whose vote counts least of all. That one who used to really be something. But I'll bet they wont even let your seat get cold. It's funny how you See everything except what a laughing stock you've become."

"I - oh, sorry, I digress." Dale paused and stared out at the mountains for a moment. "Yes, start with you, work my way up through the justice system to the Minister. That sounds about right."

"You think I'll be punished for my sins? Not if they don't catch me. There's no such thing as fate. What you See - it isn't fate: it's choice, it's consequence. It just hasn't happened yet.

"You don't understand me at all, Professor. I'm not a coward!" He laughed. "I'm a living fucking legacy! My work is that of the Dark Lord before he died, and of my father before he went insane in Azkaban. The Dark Lord lives on in the hearts of his loyal followers, men like myself, women like Juliet Lee. He will never truly die, not until this country goes back to the way He made it, the way it should be."

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Even though Goldeye had known the course of events, he still wasn't prepared to be thrown into the drinks cabinet. The glass bottles rattled threateningly as he collapsed on the floor. He was far too old to be thrown around like some sort of toy, especially by such a self-indulgent boy. He lay like that for a time, slowly rising to his feet while he let Dale's words rush over him. He laughed bitterly at his explanation of destiny. It gave him the strength to stand and directly stare into his eyes.

"Fate...is non-existent," he said slowly. He turned around and opened a drawer in the cabinet. "Like it or not, Matthews, we've all got roles to play in Destiny's game. We are rarely given choices and you are always traveling across a pre-determined path." Out of the drawer, he picked up an envelope sealed with wax. He turned back to Dale and held the envelope out in front of him.

"The only reason Fate allowed you to come here was so you could deliver this," Goldeye explained, gesturing with the envelope. "Because the time has come for decisions and choice. In this envelope is a prophecy, and you have you to deliver it to your leader." He began to walk slowly towards Dale at a constant pace. "You are a tool of Destiny. And once it is done with you, you will be discarded. As It did with Dumbledore, with Voldemort, with Grindlewald and soon me." He held out the envelope to the Death Eater.

"Do you want to know what it says, Dale?"

[Dale Matthews]

Dale took pleasure in Goldeye's slow silence. He noticed the old man had shed his little verbal jabs, and took this as a victory.

"I'm not afraid of destiny. The closest thing is what you and your grandson have done. You see these projections of the future, you know that they will happen, you take it upon yourself to make them happen... but that isn't destiny. I would still be killing you tonight, you realize that? You've got the whole thing backwards."

"I am the Dark Lord's tool, not destiny's. If you're trying to scare me out of killing you with your vague supernatural threats and your wax-sealed envelopes then it's not working."

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

"Oh, you complete fucking moron," Goldeye snapped angrily, scrunching up the envelope in his hand. "This is the most important thing that will ever happen in your life. You know I'm a Seer, so I don't see why you're disputing the god damn point." He dropped the scrunched up envelope on the floor and strode angrily to the platform, overlooking the castle grounds. If Nickarlen recalled correctly, this was where Dumbledore fell to his death. Huh. He'd never made that connection between their murders before, but now they seemed overwhelming.

"Juliet Lee is going to have a child. According to the prophecy, this child is a complete pure blood. Pure wizard. An act of the bloodline to cleanse itself. He will be the next Dark Lord, if he is allowed to grow up," Goldeye said quickly yet firmly. His eyes didn't match his voice, though, they were staring blissfully into the scenic setting and all at once his eyelids felt so very, very heavy.

He turned to face Dale, "I'm telling you this because you need to hear it. I've sent owls up with the completed prophecy, just under half an hour ago. The Ministry knows. The Prophet knows. And now the Death Eaters will know." His hands came together, as if in prayer. "A war will likely follow. People will make choices, hard ones. This country will suffer, again and again. But it will make what it most dearly needs. Heroes. And I doubt the Death Eaters will survive this next conflict." Goldeye hoped anyway, it was just as likely that the Death Eaters would crush their opposition.

[Dale Matthews]

Dale stood there for some time. All his paranoia escaped him. Something about Goldeye made him seem genuine. He bent down and picked up the crumpled envelope, turning it over in his hands for a moment.

Dale could tell that Goldeye felt the weight of his words. With the subject of his own death, he was flippant. With this, morose. This scared Goldeye more than his own death could.

"Why..." he said, finally. "Are you telling me this? Why do the Death Eaters need to know? Why give us the chance to protect her?"

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Goldeye stood still, completely unmoving from his position in front of the ledge. A slow breeze picked up behind him, making his robe flap in the wind. The crowds, the birds, he couldn't hear anything. Complete silence, except for Dale's voice and the sound of the unfurling letter. The Seer looked to the grandfather clock, which had stopped working suddenly. It's hands had magically moved to 11:54.

"Because no matter how much I despise your kind, destiny does not take sides," Goldeye explained slowly. "Everyone needs to know. England needs to make a choice. People can choose the side of evil or good, or be completely apathetic. This will define the future. The prophecy speaks of great conflict and a time of change. This country will never be the same." He closed his eyes and rocked back on his heels, dangerously leaning over the edge.

He opened his eyes and stared levelly at Dale. "It's time."

[Dale Matthews]

Dale felt disconnected, surreal, like his own consciousness was swaying back and forth inside of him, while he just stood there. Hand, into his robes. Wand to his side. Hand, quivering slightly. Unusual. This was not as he'd expected.

He wanted pain. He wanted to be able to enjoy it like he usually did.

He wanted fear. Why wasn't Goldeye afraid? Why was he so resigned to his fate? Why didn't he just jump and rob Dale of his glory? Prophecy, destiny... Goldeye truly believed in it.

He wanted to pull the old man down, beat him again, make him suffer. He wanted to bring his grandson back up here, whatever it took until Goldeye actually suffered. He wanted this but he knew he wouldn't get it. It was time, so it was time.

Dale lost control, but Goldeye hadn't taken it from him. It was destiny.

Wand up.

The grandfather clock in the corner ticked eight times between Goldeye's last words and his last breath. To Dale at least, it felt much longer.

Raise, aim at chest.

Summon anger. Want to kill him, not give him a nosebleed. Deep breath now. Flourish.

"Avada Kedavra!"

[Nickarlen "Goldeye" Torlen]

Dale raised the wand and that inevitable green streak charged towards Goldeye. This was it. This was really it. A life played before his eye. A boy who he didn't recognize. A man he barely knew. An old face that was too familiar.

He remembered his mother, a raven-haired women who, in his memory, always had her hair up. His father was a blur, unrecognizable. He remembered a boy being told his parents were dead. He could see that boy crying, alone. He saw the madness that took the boy and he saw the girl who saved him. He saw their first kiss on a Valentines Day, he saw her a baby in her arms, he saw her lifeless body in the hallway.

He saw his children and a wedding. He saw his grand kids, he saw holiday photos and Christmas trees. He remembered the smell of sea salt in an empty stone room.

He could see a shopping mall and dead men. He could see a medal pinned to his chest. He could see a book, his name written in bold. He could see a broken house and a broken family. He could still see her lifeless body in the hallway.

She was more than a girl, more than love itself. She was a moment and a memory. A living, breathing concept. Her name was...

Nick's eyes widened open. He'd forgotten her name. Oh god, this couldn-

The spell struck him and he hung in the air for a moment, then fell off the tower's edge. His spine broke when he hit the ground.