Characters, settings, and story relating to the Harry Potter series of novels are copyright J. K. Rowling, along with Bloomsbury Publishing, et al. "Spirit of Fear" is not an officially published work, nor is it in any cooperation with J. K. Rowling or Bloomsbury Publishing. "Spirit of Fear" is entirely (with the exclusion of the aforementioned characters, settings, and story) a work by Thomas Holman.
Chapter Thirty-Five
New Tension
Chey arrived in the Charms classroom Thursday afternoon after asking a few people the way, all the while hating himself for not demanding a map to the castle upon his arrival. Upon entering, he found only three other people in the room: Professor Flitwick, Cedric Diggory, and the quiet boy from the dormitory.
"Ah," the short professor said, seeing Chey enter, "that's everyone."
"You're kidding," Chey said rather monotonously.
"Not at all," he replied. "Well then, welcome to my advanced Charms class."
"And what's so advanced about it?" Cedric asked.
"To start," Filius explained, "One needs to score an 'outstanding' in their Charms O.W.L.s, as well as at least 'exceeds expectations' in all their other subjects."
And Aunt 'Em knew that, Chey thought, and that's why she made me take them. Oddly, he wasn't angry at her, but proud of her confidence in him, though he'd never say that to her directly.
"We'll be exploring the raw basics of magic," continued the diminutive instructor, "and methods of using magic to accomplish tasks where there is no easy spell to cast."
"No spell?" the quiet boy echoed. Overly unremarkable in appearance, his light-brown hair was incredibly untidy, and his face looked very healthy, like he kept himself busy when he wasn't in a classroom.
"That's right, Mister Bishop. You didn't really think you could have gone your entire life carrying a dictionary of spells you could reference, did you?"
The remainder of the class consisted of a discussion on raw magic implementation, in which Chey was able to contribute greatly. Most of what he said revolved around theory he'd been taught in the United States, as he couldn't very well describe what he knew intuitively. Fortunately, his classmates seemed to comprehend the subject quite well, so they progressed greatly during the class.
Before long, the bell sounded off the end of classes, and the students left the Charms room.
"You're related to Professor McGonagall, right?" Cedric asked Chey as the three of them headed to the Great Hall for dinner.
"I keep getting asked that question," he responded. "Yes, she's my aunt."
"Funny she never mentioned you, eh?" said the quiet boy, clearly trying to rile Chey up.
"Well, she knows it's impolite to brag," Chey sniped back. "Never really caught your name."
"Edward Bishop. Mind my asking why you were sitting with the teachers at the opening feast?"
"Headmaster said it was so I could get better acquainted with the teachers," Chey explained. "But I didn't believe it. I was just tired of arguing with the man."
"I thought Dumbledore might have some motive," Cedric chimed in.
"I was worried you might be another one like Potter," Edward voiced.
"Not sure I follow," Chey questioned.
"Dumbledore's favorite student," Edward lamented. "Him and that Granger girl."
"Who?"
"You know them," Edward insisted, but Chey continued to look confused.
"You do, Chey" Cedric explained. "Potter's the boy with the glasses and Granger's got bushy hair and always running to the library." Still no connections until, "They're always hanging around Weasley?"
"...Oh, Specks and Whiskers!" Chey said after a moment. Upon seeing their confusion he said, "What were their names? Uh–Herbert...Harold...Harry! And uh...something Greek...Hermoine, right?"
"Yeah, that's them," Edward clarified.
"Specks and Whiskers?" Cedric asked, perplexed.
"Nicknames. So, Dumbledore's favorite students?"
"The three of them, yeah," Edward continued his exasperation. "No matter how much trouble they're in, Dumbledore'll just look the other way."
"Damn," Chey said in amazement. "Wish some of my old teachers were that forgiving. But why's he so lenient with just them?"
"Catering to celebrity, I guess," Cedric suggested.
"Celebrity?"
"Yeah," Ed confirmed very matter-of-factly. Then, with sarcasm, said, "Potter's the big hero of Hogwarts."
"Come to think of it," Chey realized, "What's that kid's story?"
"You mean you don't know?" Cedric asked with utter amazement.
"Would I be asking if I did?"
"You're not jerking us around, are you?" Edward echoed Cedric's question.
"Hey, all I know is people look at him different."
"Different how?"
"It's always with either contempt or compassion. No one really seems to truly admire or respect him."
"Well, it's not like he's done anything of merit," Edward mentioned.
"What about two years ago?" Cedric mentioned in an attempt to correct Edward.
"What do you mean?"
"With the Chamber and all?"
"Gonna have to clarify," Chey told them.
"Right," Cedric started. "You're aunt ever told you about Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets?"
"Yeah," Chey confirmed. "Two years ago it was opened."
"Potter's the one who killed the monster."
"Really? How old was he?"
"It was his second year," Edward said. Chey was impressed, and he regretted failing to do anything of merit during his own second year.
"And the year before that," Cedric continued, "he saved the Sorcerer's Stone from You-Know-Who."
"The what from who?" Chey said.
"The Sorcerer's Stone," Cedric said. "You've heard of that, haven't you?"
"It exists?" Chey asked, intrigued.
"Not anymore, it was destroyed."
"Typical," Edward commented.
"And who'd he save it from?" Chey continued his questioning.
"You-Know-Who," Cedric answered.
"Afraid I don't," Chey said. "Who are you talking about?" Cedric and Edward stared at him in awe, though Chey couldn't understand why. "What?"
"You seriously don't know?" Edward asked.
"Seriously, yeah."
"Wow."
"Bloody hell."
"When you guys are done gawking at my lack of knowledge in this particular subject..." Chey said, reminding them they still hadn't answered his question.
"The darkest wizard of our time!" Edward cried. "You don't know him?"
"I'm not even going to begin to explain," Chey said, frustrated, "the ongoing debate on who's actually the 'darkest wizard of our time.' This would be a lot quicker if you'd just say his name."
"H-his name was...V-..." Cedric stuttered. "He murdered loads of people and...his mark showed up at the World Cup!"
"Oh yeah!" Chey said, finally realizing who they were talking about. "You mean Riddle, don't you?"
"What?" Edward asked, seemingly thinking Chey was at the wrong conclusion.
"Yeah, Tom Riddle," Chey continued. "Dumbass kept calling himself 'Lord Voldemort.'" The two recoiled at the sound of the name, stopping dead in the hallway. "What's the matter with you?"
"Y-you said his name," Cedric stammered.
"Yeah," Chey replied, as they continued to stand in the hallway. "So?"
"What do you mean 'So?'"
"A name is a name is a name," Chey said. "Besides, it's not even his real name. We always called him 'Tom Riddle.' Wait, is this why Dumbledore likes Specks? Because he beat a guy who was already dead?"
"No," Edward answered. "It's probably got more to do with Potter's story."
"What story?"
"You-Know-Who tried to kill Potter when was a baby," Cedric explained, "but he survived and You-Know-Who died."
"So if he's dead," Chey wondered, "how'd he try to take the Sorcerer's Stone?"
"I don't know the details," Cedric told him. "You'd have to ask either Potter or Dumbledore. Some say You-Know-Who never really died."
"Yeah, yeah. Speculation abound," Chey tactfully dismissed Cedric's comment. "So Riddle tries to kill baby Specks and fails, right? How's that work?"
"No idea," Edward said. "I suppose something made You-Know-Who's killing curse backfire, and Potter came out of it with just a scar."
"Specks beat the Avada save for getting a scar?" Chey wondered aloud. "What the hell?"
"Chey, a word."
Minerva stood in the hallway facing the three of them, a completely passive expression on her face.
"I'll catch up later, guys," Chey told them.
"Right." Edward said.
"Later," added Cedric as the two continued to the Great Hall.
"So what's up, 'Em?"
"Tomorrow the Headmaster would like to-"
"Chey!" came Ron's voice from down the hall. He was out of breath and looked very worried. "It's your car...Peeves is-"
But he had hardly a chance to finish his sentence. Upon hearing the words "car" and "Peeves," Chey assumed the worst and immediately took off, Ron not far behind. He shot past the many students meandering about the hall, passing even Cedric and Edward, who questioned his hurry, though he gave them no answer.
He reached the entrance hall, and jumped down the entire flight of marble steps, his feet screaming in agony when he landed. But that didn't matter. All that mattered was giving the accursed menace that was Peeves his due punishment.
Running out the open doors, he saw a small group gathered around the Charger, laughing, while Peeves was happily pouring two cans of magenta oil-based house paint all over the open-windowed car. He had just finished one can, dropping it to the ground, and was beginning again with a second.
"PEEVES, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" he screamed, throwing a spell with little regard for anything but revenge.
Peeves saw Chey coming, and abandoned his paint cans, headed for the castle. Chey's spell impacted the freshly opened can, and it exploded. Its contents sprayed spectacularly on the laughing bystanders. The poltergeist cackled merrily as he sped for the castle, Chey's spells just missing him. He made it inside, and Chey could only clench his fist. It seemed odd, and when he looked at his right hand, he saw no wand. Before anyone could see, he quickly cast an illusion.
"How dare you!" came a voice. Chey turned, finding the voice belonged to one of the bystanders now sprayed by Peeves's magenta paint. "I can't believe Dumbledore wants us to be hospitable to you!"
"It's your own bloody fault, Malfoy," Harry said from Chey's side. "You gits were laughing right with Peeves!"
"Shove off, Potter!" Malfoy shot back, and Chey immediately understood the magnitude to which these two boys despised each other. "I ought to tell my father about this!"
"Really, Malfoy, that's all you ever say," Hermoine mentioned, to the laughter of some of the bystanders.
"Nobody asked you, Mudblood!" Malfoy snapped. He found himself staring at the tip of Chey's wand, just inches from his face.
"I'm not going to tolerate language like that, Slimy," Chey said.
"Nothing you can do about it," they boy said defiantly.
Chey smiled. With a sweep of his wand, he had flipped Malfoy over, landing him in a disheveled heap.
"Oi!" said one of the older students who had been egging Peeves on. He was the least covered in paint. "Pick on someone your own size!"
"I would," Chey said, letting Malfoy scramble to his feet, "but you're not much of a challenge either." A chorus of laughter sprang up from behind Chey, but those in front of him were silent.
"Wanna bet?" he sneered. The first thought that came to Chey's mind was that this boy had a face only a mother could begin to love.
"Easy, Derrick," said one of the paint-splattered bystanders.
"Is that all you Slytherins do?" Cedric chastised them. "Fight like thugs?"
"I've seen street gangs better behaved than you," Edward added.
"Doesn't help that they're a lot of right foul gits," Ron said.
"Do you really want us to get started on you, Weasleby?" Malfoy interjected. "I really don't think your father can afford any more bad press."
"Watch your mouth, Malfoy!"
"And what's your father have to feel so guilty about?" Chey asked.
"What are you talking about?"
"All those charity events, donations. He's got to be compensating for something he did."
"You have no right to talk about my father!"
"I'll bet his dad was one of the torturers at the World Cup!" Harry surmised.
"Careful, Potter," Malfoy reacted snidely, "wouldn't want any Dementors to come after you to make you faint!"
"Come off it, Malfoy. That was a year ago," Harry said, but Malfoy had no response. Chey's wand was once again aimed at Malfoy's face.
"You're just itching to piss me off today, aren't you?" Chey said, while several Slytherins pulled out their own wands.
"What's the matter, Yank?" the boy named Derrick approached him. "You scared of the bad old Dementors too?"
"You'll do well not to annoy me," Chey told him.
"Yeah, America isn't as tough as it seems. Go run home to your ruddy parents, you stupid Yank-"
Chey had enough. Derrick had gone too far. A flurry of stunners and shield charms flew between them. When the dust settled, the two of them were found just four feet apart, wands at each other's throats. Chey's aura flickered ever so slightly.
Slytherins trained their aim on Chey, while the others focused on Derrick in a tense standoff.
"What is going on here?" Minerva had finally caught up to Chey. In response to her voice, the bystanders lowered their wands. Chey and Derrick, however, never budged. "Both of you, drop your wands immediately!"
It took one of Minerva's disarming spells to get them to stand down, as the wands flew to Minerva's hand and the two of them were forced away from each other. The Slytherins shot dark stares at the rest while they walked back inside, Minerva returning Derrick's wand when he passed.
"Up to your old tricks?" Minerva asked him, handing him his wand. Then, looking at it, said, "And I see you've changed the illusion."
"One truth at a time, 'Em," he said quietly so the others wouldn't overhear. "I'm already hiding it's existence, so why hide its appearance."
"As long as you're prepared to answer the questions that arise." With hardly a change in face, she said, "The Headmaster would like you to come to his office tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock," and turned to leave.
"Damn, you're fast, mate," Ron said when Minerva left. "Never seen a shield charm cast that quick! I think you could've beaten him!"
"Maybe," Chey wondered. He was surprised Derrick was so quick on the draw, himself. Had he not been fueled by adrenaline, he would definitely have lost the duel. "Hey, Whiskers?"
"Y-yes?" Apparently, he'd woken her out of deep thought.
"You think a Scourgify will work on this?" he asked, motioning to the mess of paint on the Charger.
"Oh! Um, it should..."
Author's note.
I feel obligated to explain my absence.
I made a mistake when first putting words to this story. I didn't plan it out. It was before Deathly Hallows was released. I only had a half-paved road to follow, writing one chapter at a time.
The last two months have had me reading the books, doing research, and writing out a (so far) 12 typed pages of notes. Now I have exact dates and time frames, character bios, and more information on the Department of Sorcery (keep an eye out for that).
Nobody likes delays like this last one (especially me), but I feel this hiatus is the best thing to happen to this story.
Unfortunately, this is not the end of the drought. There's still a good deal of planning I need to do, and for the sake of the story I want to finish my roadmap before beginning again.
I thank you all for sticking with it. It's been hard on all of us.
Termite