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 Twelve

A Day

Chey never did get a map. This was the one consistent thing about every school he attended: no one ever had a map.

The powder blue theme continued throughout the interior of the castle. Everywhere he went it seemed like daylight. From the hallways to the classrooms, walls were white and furnishings light blue. Even the dormitories were those same colors. Chey sent word to Chuck to mail him some of his posters.

The uniforms were tighter around the sleeves than those of his previous schools, so he couldn't pretend to keep his wand strapped to his arm like in the past. He had come to the decision to fashion a holster to keep it at his right hip, much like a gunslinger of the Old West. If fact, that was his inspiration.

It was day one of the term, and Chey woke up staring at that horribly cheerful color, and could only hope his posters would come soon. Around him there were other boys stirring awake and getting ready for the day, eventually heading down to breakfast.

On his way down he passed other student engaged in conversation with one another about what they did over the summer and what the new year would be like. When he arrived at the dining hall, he saw about five students huddled over a single spot on the table.

"Oh, I hope they catch him!" said one girl as he passed. Chey looked and saw it was the same veela girl from before. He noticed that it was a newspaper they were examining, and on the front page was a gaunt, sickly face with filthy black hair. "What a horrible man, that Sirius Black!"

"I agree, Fleur," said a girl next to her. "That man deserves to be caught!"

Chey could be silent no longer. "Well I hope he gets away."

He had now all their attention. Their expressions ranged from shock to contempt.

"How can you say something like that?" asked the veela girl referred to as Fleur. She seemed the most disgusted by his words. "How can you defend that evil man?"

"Easily," he replied. "I don't think he's evil."

"But everyone knows he is!" Her arguments were becoming desperate.

"Everyone thinks they know, just like everyone thinks they're better than what they really are. In reality, we'll never really know."

"But he killed people!" she nearly shouted, now standing. By now the whole dining hall was fixated on their argument.

"And we'll never hear the truth."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They never let him testify, which can only mean the truth is far worse than the story we've been told. Didn't you ever consider that?" They were silent, clearly our of words. "I didn't think so," Chey said as he picked up a handful of croissants and left the hall. "Pompous asses," he muttered while walking down the hall.

Anyone who witnessed the scene exhibited an animosity towards Chey. When he passed them in the halls, they shot him looks that could cripple an elephant. He thought it best not to incite anything for a while, just wait for their tempers to cool. He only hoped they would do the same. His hopes were all but dashed when he arrived at his first class of the day, Defensive Magic. If there was anywhere for them to try something, this was the place to do it.

The room was half full when he entered, and when they noticed him a hush fell over the crowd. Clearly, everyone in that room was aware of the events that transpired earlier that morning. He wisely chose a seat to the far right side of the room, near a cabinet filled with bottles he presumed contained potions that countered a wide array of spell effects. He took no notice of the students who entered after him, allowing them to talk behind his back as they wished.

At nine o'clock on the dot, the teacher entered from the door in the back. He was rather lanky, and Chey could have easily mistaken his mannerisms for that of a fencing instructor.

"Welcome, sixth years!" Chey had seen this sort of annoying enthusiasm before. It reminded him strongly of that Lockhart character. "For you," he said indicating Chey, "who do not know me, I am Professor DuFendere, and this is Defensive Magic. I would like to personally welcome our new transfer student, Chey McGonnagal."

"No need," Chey replied softly. He didn't require any more attention.

"Nonsense! Everyone, let's welcome him to Beauxbatons!" He began clapping ecstatically, never noticing that no one else was following his lead. "Please, Monsieur McGonnagal, tell us about yourself!"

With a click of his tongue indicating his frustration, he began, but DuFendere insisted that he make a presentation out of it in front of the class. "Well, I've been to five other schools, one in Italy, one in Russia, and three in the United States."

"What were they?" asked the hyperactive DuFendere.

"In order, Washington Magical Academy, Miami University of Magic, Colorado School of Sorcery, Venice University of Magic, and Durmstrang Institute of Wizardry." There was a murmur among the students as he mentioned the last one. It was apparent that Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had a bit of a rivalry, and Chey could not help but think it was a good thing he had not mentioned Beauxbatons to his friends in Russia.

"So you're from America?" said a boy in the front row with a hint of contempt in his voice.

"Sure as hell proud of it," was the response Chey gave.

"Are you any good?" said a dark-haired girl in the back.

"Came in top of my class wherever I went, if that answers your question."

"Professor," piped up the veela girl. She sat right in the middle of the classroom, the center of attention. It was getting annoying running into her all the time.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Delacour?" DuFendere replied.

'Fleur Delacour?' Chey thought. 'Flower of the court?' Odd name. Then again the school is 'Beautiful Wands.'

"Perhaps we should measure the value of these schools he has attended," she proposed. No one in the room seemed to understand but her.

"What do you mean?" the professor asked, voicing the collective thoughts of the room.

"Why don't we compare the best student of those schools," she said indicating Chey, "against the best of Beauxbatons?"

Chey saw through the thin veil for what it was: the girl merely wanted to discredit his opinion. It was a cheap tactic to get an approved duel with him, and Chey knew that it would never work.

"Yes, yes! A wonderful idea!"

"What?" Chey said as he swivelled his head to see the teacher bouncing on his heels. Clearly this man was a romantic, aware only of the glories that come with the fight, and blatantly ignorant of the harsh realities.

"Come right on up, Mademoiselle," he invited the veela girl up in front of the class. When she came face to face with him, there was a tense moment as they stared each other down.

"It's a little cramped to have a duel in here," he said. Now Chey wanted to prove himself. He knew it wasn't the best of solutions, but it was the only way to make them leave him alone.

"Yes, yes! Of course!" DuFendere said excitedly. "Everyone, let's go into the practice hall," he called while eagerly leading them to a door on the left side of the classroom, through which there was an arena-like room with plenty of space.

The two of them stood there like statues, Chey slightly taller than her, while the rest of the class filed into the room around them. Finally, they followed behind the rest of the crowd, the girl walking ahead of Chey, clearly trying to show off her hair. The crowd had gathered near the door, and the two of them continued past into the open area.

"This will be a friendly duel," DuFendere announced. "There will be no intent to harm your opponent, simply disarm or stun. Naturally, the Unforgivables are not allowed."

"Are you prepared?" she asked while pulling her wand out of her uniform gracefully. It was almost ten inches, made of rosewood, but Chey could not determine from this distance what it's core was. All he could tell was that it seemed like a rather temperamental wand. The way she held it showed some degree of style, much like the rest of the school.

To prove that he was not without a style of his own, he pulled his own wand, albeit an illusion, from it's resting place at his hip and twirled it around his finger a few times like a handgun. It was a pointless display that still left the spectators in awe.

"Well, to put it one way," he responded, "Yippie-kay-yay."

"Typical American," she said.

"Cliche snob," he answered.

"Let's make it interesting!" said DuFendere, a mistake to say.

Neither one of them ever said a single spell; they both cast nonverbal spells the entire time. She cast a knockback jinx, and he cast a summoning charm on the pile of cushions behind her. He performed an involuntary backflip, and she leaped and rolled to the side to avoid the flurry of pillows. Chey regained his footing and cast a banishing charm on the same cushions, hurtling them towards his opponent, who was recovering from her recent acrobatics. Seeing the incoming onslaught, she countered it with a wide stunning spell, sending the pillows scattering in all directions. The spell continued on its path towards Chey, who touched his wand to the floor, and inches in front of it, a stone wall rose up and abruptly shattered when the powerful stunner impacted it.

Behind the crumbling wall, Chey sent forth a swarm of conjured ravens, which surrounded the girl, disorienting her. She found her bearings, and sent a stream of water at Chey, who stopped her attack with a flash-freezing charm of his own design. The effort of freezing such a large quantity of water broke his concentration on the birds and they vanished into thin air.

The now frozen stream of water crashed to the ground, shattering into a million pieces, causing the spectating crowd to jump back to avoid the sharp ice. Now the floor was an entirely an area of dangerous footing, and both combatants immediately cast sticking charms to their shoes, just to keep their feet on the ground.

Without missing a beat, they continued their duel, both casting stunners which collided in midair, sending harmless sparks around the room. Chey decided to wait for the cloud to clear before shooting random spells. Fleur, however, decided differently, and sent three spells through the confusion in rapid succession. The spells dispersed the cloud and streaked towards Chey.

Chey deflected the first one with a swing of his hand, as though swatting a particularly annoying insect. The spell flew away from him and impacted the ground, kicking up pieces of the floor that scattered and mixed with the ice. The second spell was diverted away from Chey likewise, hitting the wall just over the heads of the other students. Chey caught the third spell on the tip of his wand. The force of stopping such a strong spell, a testament to the girl's talent, forced Chey's arm back behind his shoulder. This gave him plenty of room to wind up and pitch it back, amplifying the spell in the process.

The renewed and redirected spell sped towards the surprised Fleur, who had clearly never seen such a sight. Closer and closer it came towards her, and she shut her eyes, bracing for it to hit her.

When she opened her eyes the spell was floating in midair, a sparkling concentration of yellow sparks, inches from her face. Chey had stopped it before it hit her, figuring that he had already won the duel and there was no need to knock her out.

He walked towards her, and when he was close enough he scattered the spell with his illusion of a wand so that it became a harmless cloud of sparks that faded quickly away.

"I do believe you've been beaten," he said to her quietly.

"Bravo! Bravo!" came the voice of DuFendere as he clapped excitedly. He was alone in his celebration, however, as the students seemed to be trying to comprehend just how it was possible for their top classmate to be beaten by this uncouth transfer student. "That was a wonderful demonstration of nonverbal spell techniques! Thank you so much for introducing us to the primary focus of this year's teachings!"

"You haven't started nonverbals yet?" Chey asked the girl, who had no answer for him. He assumed she had pursued learning the skills voluntarily.

"Another topic for this year," continued the perky professor, "will be expecting the unexpected in a duel." The sound of a bell rang through the castle, signifying the end of classes. "Ah, what a shame that's all for today. Come along, everyone! Back into the classroom to gather your things."

He led the students into the other room. Chey and Fleur did not immediately follow. When Chey finally did turn to leave, after the last of the crowd had gone through the door, he left her standing as she was when she had opened her eyes and found the suspended spell immediately in front of her.

When she finally noticed he was no longer near her, Chey was halfway to the door. Out of desperation to win she cast yet another spell while his back was turned. Chey, still very aware of his surroundings, sensed the incoming attack, and in one motion whipped around, swung his wand and hit the spell, sending it straight towards a large chunk of ice on the floor that shattered on the spell's impact.

"You can never let anything go, can you?" he asked her, though he was sure she hadn't heard him.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

"Do what?" he replied. What could she be talking about? How to amplify spells? Deflect them? Raise a stone wall out of the ground?" She didn't seem able to voice into words what she wanted to know, so Chey decided not to waste time waiting for her to figure it out.

When he entered the classroom he found many people still waiting for Fleur to come out. He gathered his own things without waiting for anyone else, and continued to his next class.