Characters, settings, and story taken from 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 Forty-Four
Mr. Secretary
"You're a day early," Chey replied.
"Am I really to blame if England's Minister of Magic wants an all-day conference tomorrow?" said the man before him.
"You never told me your birthday is tomorrow," Fleur said to him in French
"Here we go," Chey droned.
"A year we've known each other and not once did you mention it!"
"Last year, it was when you had just stopped hating my existence, and at this particular point in time, you're still mad at me, so I figured 'Why stir things up?'" he answered in French. "Any other time, it wasn't relevant."
She raised her hand threateningly, as if to summon another fireball, but she stopped herself and consented to wave a finger in a warning fashion.
"This must be the president of your fan club," said the middle-aged Carolina man. "The delightful Miss Fleur Delacour, if I'm not mistaken."
"And you are?" she asked him, shifting her attention from Chey and assuming the more pompous and arrogant attitude which was so very characteristic of her.
"Department of Sorcery, Creatures Division Chief Warren Forsythe," Chey answered for him. "He certified my Class Echo."
"And walked you through the animagus registration," Forsythe added, "and pulled some strings to get you early apparition clearance."
"What, you didn't think I could get clearance myself?" Chey accosted him.
"Regulations prohibit a thirteen year old boy from getting permission to appear and disappear as per his own discretion," Forsythe said almost mockingly. "Imagine the trouble he could get himself into: breaking into candy shops, liquor stores..."
"Girl's locker rooms?" Chey suggested. Forsythe smiled.
"But as I've read lately, you, sir, didn't need to apparate to get into trouble." The man stared Chey down with the same smile on his face, and Chey thought that sounded like a reprimand rather than admiration.
"So who are the spooks?" Chey asked, changing the subject. "Bodyguards?"
"I don't take a bullet for nobody," said the black-haired Brooklyn man.
"That's enough, Bulldog," came the Alabama accent of the wiry, gaunt-looking man in the back. It was the same voice Forsythe had referred to as "Jackson."
Chey was about to ask what the problem was, when the cliche fighter pilot said, "Bodyguards take a bullet. Security detail stops bullets from leaving the barrel."
"Okay," Chey said, still not seeing the difference, "but that's a lot of 'security detail' for just a Creatures Division chief."
"You don't get a whole lot of news from back home, do you, boy?" Forsythe asked.
"Nah, you know how self-centered they are over here," Chey said facetiously. "All anybody in Europe ever talks about is other people in Europe."
"Chey, Mister Forsythe was appointed Secretary of Sorcery early last September," Minerva said.
"And I still haven't heard any congratulations, Miss Minerva," Forsythe commented.
"Van Buren finally retired?" Chey asked. Come to think of it, he'd gotten a letter from the Secretary's office back in September. This must have been what the words meant.
"In a way," Forsythe said. "'Retired' can mean a lot of things. 'Public outcry for dismissal,' for instance."
"I thought Adams and Clay were the shoo ins," Chey remarked.
"The other division chiefs thought Adams was too aged and Clay was too controversial. Seeing my hat was the only one left in the ring, they defaulted to me."
"Okay then. But the question I was going to ask still stands. What the hell are you doing here."
"Miss Minerva here was kind enough to write me about what you've been up to, so I thought I might wander on down here and congratulate you for being the first Triwizard Mediator from the States."
Chey paused for a moment, stunned by the mediocrity of the reason behind a trans-Atlantic voyage. "Aunt Em interrupted rebuilding the Charger for this?" he said, disappointed.
"Just about."
"I'm gonna leave now," Chey said, and started to leave.
"Since when did 'just about' start to mean 'that was all?'" Chey stopped. "I still have something to tell you, boy."
Minerva looked ready to interrupt, but steeled herself and frowned.
"Nothing you couldn't write it in that stupidly arbitrary letter?" Chey said.
"So you did get that," Forsythe said, smiling. "The red-tail came back without anything, so we assumed you either got it or it was lost. Goddam, Minerva, y'all can't figure a better way to talk to each other over here? Can't pick up a phone once in a while?"
"Getting impatient, here."
"Some things are too important to put in writing, Chey," Forsythe returned to the subject at hand. "What I've got to tell you concerns you pretty deeply, and you're going to hear it whether Miss Minerva likes it or not."
Minerva steeled herself again.
"So hurry your ass up and tell me, if it's that important."
"Back in sixty-eight, I got a starting job in the Research Division, specifically the Prophesy office. Then, in seventy-one they merged the office with Archives, so 'bout thirty or so started transcribing prophesies because Archives didn't have space for all them little glass balls."
"You came here to tell me how hard you work?" Chey asked, now very annoyed.
"No, but if you got that impression, all the better for it," he answered, smirking. "There I was, writing down them cryptic warnings of the future. One caught my eye, so I kept a copy."
"Still not hearing anything that sounds important..."
"I think it's about you." Forsythe pulled from his pocket a slip of paper handed it over to Chey. He and Fleur read it together in silence.
"The Misguided Fox who allies with Dragon's Flame and stands by the Court's Flower shall be haunted by the Lost Shadow who yearns for his long forgotten Strength. Without the Fox, the Shadow shall surely perish, and the Fox shall not survive without the Shadow's guidance. They shall together challenge the Darkness of the age, as the Shadow seeks his Former Glory. The Fox shall not be free of the Shadow until Former Glory is attained."
"Forsythe, are you sure you weren't caught in some experiment gone horribly wrong when you worked in Research?" Chey asked.
"Now why would you ask that?"
"Because this has nothing to do with me. It's all ambiguous at best."
"On its surface, it doesn't seem to be about much of anything," Forsythe agreed. "But I thought you knew how to read between the lines?"
Chey read the prophesy again, and a third time, but still, "This could mean anything."
"I didn't think much of it at first," Forsythe admitted, "but the more I followed you the more the dots started coming together."
"How many dots?"
"A fair handful. To start, you're the 'Misguided Fox.' That's your animagus form, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but you already knew that, didn't you?"
"Not much gets by you, does it, sonny?" Forsythe complimented. "Yeah, I knew that. So you're the Fox, and this young lady is the Flower."
"Moi?" Fleur asked, startled.
"My French ain't as fleshed out as other people's," Forsythe said, "but I'm pretty sure your name directly translates 'Flower of the Court.' Is that right, Miss Delacour?"
Fleur nodded silently, and Chey said, "Yeah, and Dragon's Flame is Vipey. I get it. What a coincidence."
"I thought you'd find it interesting," Forsythe said, apparently satisfied he'd made his point.
"No, I see it for what it is: a coincidence," Chey responded. "No names in there or nothing, so it's not about me."
Forsythe stared Chey down for a moment, then he half-smiled and said, "If you don't want to listen to me today, that's your call, son."
"Warren," Minerva started to speak, "you came all this way to-"
"Now, Minerva," Forsythe politely interrupted, picking up his coat from the chair and pulling it on, "if I came here to talk and no one's gonna listen, I'm not the type to impose myself. Ain't no use leading a horse to water if he ain't gonna drink."
"But..." Minerva tried again.
"As always, Miss Minerva, I wish you the best. Miss Delacour, good luck in the tournament. And stay out of trouble, young man." Before allowing anyone to answer, he said to the cliche fighter pilot, "Time to head out, Taylor."
Taylor then said to the two men by the door, "Stinger, Bulldog, primary sweep." Stinger and Bulldog then exited the room, checking the hallway. Both reported it clear, and Taylor said to Jackson, the gaunt-faced man with the in the back, "Snake, take point. We'll rendezvous with Cougar and Barracuda at the gate."
Jackson had been staring out the window, but snapped to attention, calmly saying, "Hoo rah," and began leading the way out of the office. Forsythe began to follow, alongside Taylor, when he stopped at the door.
"Ole' Lenny tells me you ain't been by to see your folks in a good while," he said, turning around and addressing Chey.
"If you're going to leave, then leave," Chey said quietly, seething. Something far down inside Chey told him that last remark was just to strike a nerve. All the same, it still angered him on an incredibly deep level.
"You oughta go and see them-"
"Just...go," Chey snapped.
Another snide smile appeared on Forsythe's face before he disappeared out the doorway. "Alright, Neil, Vincent. Try not to scare too many kids on the way out like you did coming in."
Last to leave was Taylor, who stood fast, faced Minerva and saluted.
"Your brother was a good man and an inspiration to us all, Miss McGonagall."
"Thank you, Hawk," Minerva answered him as if they knew each other. "Good day."
Taylor lowered his salute and followed the others out the door, snapping it shut behind him.
"Chey, you told me you were seeing them every summer."
"Don't start, Em. I'm not in the-"
"How long has it been?" she confronted him. "A year? Two?"
Chey scowled for a moment, then relented, "Since Jimmy died."
"'Ow could you not even viseet your parents' graves, Chey?" Fleur asked, a mix of concern and outrage in her eyes.
Minerva drew a sharp breath and said, "Chey, you won't even tell her?"
"Tell me what?" Fleur rounded on him. Chey refused to answer.
"Miss Delacour," Minerva explained, "the truth is that Chey's parents, William and Alana, aren't technically deceased."
"Que voulez-?"
"Had they been up against any other such dangerous creature they would have died. Actually, I rather like to think my brother and my sister-in-law were too good to lose to such lowly creatures. But, whatever may have been, they lost the fight and paid with their souls."
"I still do not-?"
"Young lady, there is a difference between losing your life and losing your soul," Minerva explained patiently. "To lose your life is as simple as that: dying. Chey's parents are not exactly deceased, but they are not entirely alive, either. If you were to speak to them, they would not respond, because they have no motivation to do so. They would not even recognize you were there."
Fleur looked horrified. She stuttered a moment before asking, "Zen, where are zey now?"
Minerva hesitated, as if wondering whether it was okay to tell her this.
"They're in a specialized ward at the Department of Sorcery," Chey interrupted when the got tired of the silence.
"Yes," Minerva said, seemingly relieved Chey had broken the news instead of her. "A group of researchers have spent the last fifteen years trying to reverse their condition. I'm sent monthly updates, but it's always the same."
"'Our sincerest condolences go out to you and your family,'" Chey recited, "'but we regret to inform you that, despite our best efforts, we have made no apparent progress on the condition of-'"
"That's enough, Chey."
"Every month they feed us the same-!"
"Chey," Fleur interrupted in a calm, disarming tone, "why won't you visit them?"
He had to take a long, shaky breath before he could answer. "Because it's hard enough...going to a grave and expecting no response, let alone seeing them alive...and wishing...just once...they'd look you in the eye."
Author's note.
Okay, I felt bad about leaving you with that cliffhanger last chapter. So I'm posting this one even though I haven't even started 45 yet.
I'll confess the prophesy element is shamelessly borrowed from the books' main story. But I racked my brain for a month trying to come up with an alternate. The prophesy just fit too well. But I won't put too much emphasis on it, so it's not like I'm completely lifting that concept.
I'm rebuilding the TermiteStudios website. When it's done, I'll have a new music video to debut with it.
-Termite.
