The Nightmare Man

Chapter 2

It took the Nightmare Lord a minute to actually move from the stone chair. It was a wobbly journey at first. The arms didn't want to support him, and the legs nearly folded beneath his weight. He hadn't stood for so many years. Joints popped and burned as he began to move around. Numbness took over, pins and needles assaulting his fingers and legs. He shook and stretched the fingers and wriggled the toes.

Finally he got to stretch the whole body. It shuddered with cracks of unused bones and joints. Long forgotten muscles pulled and hurt in a good way and finally he stood still, upright. One last crack of his neck and then he said:

"That felt good."

Then he bent to scratch at his leg.

"Oh, that's even better..."

The man then flexed his fingers, caressed his face and chest, and frowned upon feeling the threadbare robe. He normally wasn't one for fashion, never had been, but fashion had nothing to do with him not wanting to wear rags. He stretched the robe out as much as he could to have a look, and he was not impressed.

"I do not like these clothes," he informed the possessed guard. "Well, no matter. I'll just go home and change later. Now, let me have a look at you."

"Who... what... are you?"

"Oh my. You can still speak? Impressive. Who I am? I'm the Nightmare Lord, you know that. A rather silly title, but I've gotten attached to it over the years."

"Your name..." Blood began to drip from the guard's mouth.

"Oh, no, don't fight my control that hard, my dear. I can't have you dying on me right now." He tightened the control and stopped the bleeding the guard had caused while fighting for control. "But I will answer you. I have no real name, not anymore. But I can't be called Nightmare Lord all the time, not anymore. My name when it mattered... no, I can't use that. So how about... yes, I'm Harrison!"

That would be good enough. Harrison grinned. He liked to smile. Most people became terrified when he smiled, and that just made him smile even wider.

"Up we go," he said happily. "Take me to the Ministry, dear. From all that I've heard over the years it must be directly above us."

The guard wordlessly led the way to the elevator and stepped inside. Harrison followed and hummed as the elevator began to move upwards. It had been so long he had seen anything but the dark and the room, his prison for the last few centuries.

He was ready to let the world know who he was, and why people once had feared him.

"Get ready for a show," he whispered, "because ready or not, here I come."

-o-

It was getting late in the afternoon, but there was still a fair amount of witches and wizards roaming the halls of the Ministry. Most of them were finishing up for the day. A few had just arrived for their night-shifts, getting ready at their desk. Some were looking forward to go home and see their families. There were discussions of having drinks with friends, and a few hurried as they were late for meetings outside of work. So everyone were busy in their own way.

However, all that changed when an explosion occurred, big enough to make the corridors and rooms shudder.

People fell to the floor or caught themselves against the walls. Aurors had their wands out and others ran for the exits wherever they could find them. Many made their way to the atrium where they usually took the Floo out of there.

That was a mistake. Not that they knew. As people filled up the atrium, panicking, they heard a roar of fire. A sick-looking, green fire came into the atrium like a tidal wave, and washed over dozens of people standing too close to run away. People began to scream, outside and inside the fire. Burning people ran towards those who stood still in terror. The fire was moving with purpose, seeking out people, and once they realized that they made a run for their lives.