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 Fifteen

Reconciliation

Chey woke up, aching like never before. He opened his eyes to see Fleur's face staring back, her hair and clothes drenched by the lake's water. Another moment of consciousness told him he, too, had been in the water at some point. She seemed to think his first words were warranted:

"Son of a bitch."

"Are you okay?" she asked, also a perfectly acceptable thing to say in that sort of situation, far more acceptable than what Chey said next.

"What the hell do you think?" She forgave his tone, blaming it on the pain she suspected he was in.

"Are you in much pain?"

"You think? Do me a favor and get me at least one of the following: a bottle of extra strength aspirin, a high-yield Episky spell, or a very stiff scotch."

"I can't get you the others," she said sympathetically, "but I'm very good at healing spells," and she proceeded to heal just about all his injuries, from cracked ribs to his bleeding arm.

"How'd you get so good at them?" he asked, still in something of a daze. He looked around and found himself sitting propped up by the rocks at the lake's shore beneath the castle's east balcony.

"Whenever my friends and I had practice duels, I always seemed to have the fewest injuries, so I was usually the one who healed most everybody. Though I've never been very good at performing them on myself, so it's almost a useless skill."

"It's not useless."

"Well, then what good is it when I'm on my own?"

"Having the skill is a great asset. Just the potential capacity is useful in any situation."

"How's that?"

"Magical powers are amplified by our emotions. The Patronus Charm is a prime example. You never know how good you'll be, only how good you've been."

"Kind of makes sense." She paused, then looked at his waist. "Your wand!"

"Dammit!" He looked down at the place he kept it and saw no such wand (nor illusion of one) was there, and he couldn't think of an explanation. Fortunately, and inexplicably, Fleur came up with one for him.

"It must have gotten lost during the fall!"

"Yeah, that's gotta be it!" Chey couldn't believe his luck. An awkward situation had arisen and just as quickly was explained away.

"No it isn't," she said after a long pause. "Your wand never fell away from your belt."

Confused, Chey tried to get a better grasp on what she was saying. "But it had to! There's no other explanation!"

"Chey, it was always with you until shortly after I pulled you from the water." She had a slightly guilty look in her eyes. "I wondered if your wand was special in some way, so I picked it up from your belt, but it disappeared as soon as I grabbed it." Chey could do nothing but stare at her, feeling trapped. He knew there was no getting around it. Yet another person was about to learn more about him than he cared to tell the average bystander on the street. "You know what happened and why. Explain it to me."

"First tell me what happened when I blacked out," he said in an effort to gather the time necessary to formulate a way to explain the situation with his wand.

"Fair enough. You hit the rocks about five times, fell in the water, and some pieces of the wall fell in after you and I think one of them hit your shoulder, then I dragged you out. Now explain."

"Fine. Just promise me one thing: everything I say here stays between us."

"Why?"

"Because if anyone knew the truth, I'd be on a one-way trip out of here."

"Why would that happen?"

"When I applied for transfer here, I wasn't being entirely honest."

"You mean you didn't attend all those schools you said you did?"

"No, no. I really went to them, and the grades were real. I just didn't exactly leave them voluntarily."

"You were expelled?"

"Keep it down. I was expelled once, in Venice. The three American schools have it officially listed as 'bar from returning,' because over there you can't be expelled after the final exam has been taken, and when I left Durmstrang, it was according to a deal I made with the headmaster."

"What kind of deal?"

"I'd take the rap for what I did and my friend would be left alone in return. Although I bet in a moment of spite Karkaroff will mark it down as an expulsion. Now if anyone found out that I lied on my application, I'm gone. You understand?"

"Yes, of course. I won't tell a soul. But what does that have to do with-"

"Have you ever seen a wand get destroyed?" he interrupted, and she shook her head. He sat up on the rocks and started to explain. "It's kind of surreal, like an execution for a piece of wood, with witnesses, and executioner dressed in black, and even the opportunity for a last minute reprieve. And if it's your wand, you have to watch."

"That's horrible."

"In my case, it was that much worse. They levitate it in the air, and the executioners cast a modified Reducto curse as they swing their own wands like swords, and normally the wand breaks in half in a fiery blaze of glory."

"What do you mean by 'normally?'"

"Mine shattered anti-climactically. Then the pieces just disappeared, and now they've kind of merged with my right arm. Whenever I feel like it, or when a spell takes a lot of effort, the pieces of the wand glow."

"Really?" she said, seeming to believe every word as long as he confirmed it. To convince her, he caused the shards of light to appear around his right forearm once again, each one pointing in a random direction. She stared at the spectral pieces of wand and the lights reflected in her eyes.

"Normally they point in different directions, like now, but they align themselves when I need to focus."

She said nothing, just continued to stare at the lights.

"Since then," he said as the shards disappeared, "I've been able to cast magic without relying on an outside amplifier, which is all a wand really is."

"But what happened to the wand that disappeared?"

"It was an illusion."

"A what?"

"I'm an illusionist." Her face showed confusion and disbelief. "Illusionry used to be a fairly commonplace skill, but recently we've become few and far between. Anyway, the wand was always an illusion. Has been since my third school in Colorado. In fact, my real wand never even looked like the illusion."

"How different could it be for you to hide it?"

"Not even remotely like the traditional type. It was ash, fifteen inches, dragon heartstring..."

"Okay, it's a little long, but so what?"

"...And there was a carved dragon twisting around the handle. It was the only one in four countries that didn't reject me. Not a single store in the States had one, not in Russia where we thought a Veela hair might be compatible, and not even in France. We had to resort to Olivander's in England. He kept it way in the back, said it was the only one that failed to sell since the store opened back in 382 B.C. Everyone who ever picked it up got burned, so we tried it as a last resort."

"That is odd."

"In fact, he was so glad if finally found a match that he gave it up for free."

"He gave you a wand that he made for free?"

"First, I highly doubt he was alive to make it in 382 B.C. Second, he doesn't know who made it, only that it was given to the store's founder when it opened."

"You're full of surprises," she commented, staring at him. "How is it you can resist me?"

"And you're full of surprising questions."

"Every man I meet falls head over heels when he sees me. What makes you so immune, even now that we are not screaming at each other?"

"Veelas don't affect their own kind."

"What...what do you mean?"

"My great-grandmother. She moved to the United States and it was so easy for her to pick up men. All she had to do was walk down the street, and they'd follow her. It made it easy for her to pick the man she wanted. I'll bet she gathered them all in a crowd, and pointed to her choice. Anyway, as a result, my grandmother was half veela, and my mother was a quarter veela."

She was silent, her mouth slightly open.

"What, you didn't notice?" he asked.

"N-no!"

"You can't sense others who have veela blood?"

"No! Why would I?"

"Huh. Must be a guy thing."

"Why didn't I see it when you were speaking to me so casually when we first met?" she said to herself.

"Wait, that's why you followed me that first day? You were hitting on me?" Her guilty expression told him what he already knew. "Son of a-"

"Chey, I'm sorry!"

"Why didn't I see it?" he asked himself.

"I stopped, didn't I?"

"Yeah, when I disagreed-" he stopped himself. "Hold on. You didn't antagonize me because I disagreed with you about Sirius Black, nor did you hate me because I beat you in the duel. You resented the fact that I could resist you!"

"That's-"

"It makes sense!"

She seemed to be trying to come up with an alternate explanation, but couldn't find one. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am!"

"It also explains the kiss."

"Whoa, wait a minute!" he tried to stop her. He hadn't factored that into the logic.

"No. After the kiss, I didn't hate you anymore."

"Then why did I kiss you?"

"Well...looking back on it...it did seem more like I kissed you."

Chey let out something between a tisk and a sigh. "Let's get back to the castle, it's getting dark."

On their way up, they continued talking, though silently agreed to leave their last topic for later.

"Can anyone learn how to make illusions?" she asked.

"Most illusionists are born, but even then they need training. In fact, someone could go their entire life never knowing they were illusionists because they either never heard of it or lacked the proper training."

"Can you teach me?"

He looked at her, almost admiring her ambition.

"Maybe. It's kind of a long shot, though."

"I'm willing to take it. How did you learn?"

"I had an ancient wand fuse with my arm."

"Is that a prerequisite?" she asked lightheartedly.

"It helps."

"How?"

"When the amplification and focusing device, such as a wand, is part of your arm, it unlocks your potential and let's you use the most complex of spells."

"Illusions are complicated?"

"Insanely. Takes a very clear head."

"I'm nothing if not clear-headed!"

"Oh really? Twenty minutes ago you kissed me for no reason."

"I had a reason!" she declared, then said rather softly "I just didn't know it at the time."

"Anyway, a clear head is not a guarantee." They had reached the castle's doors, and Fleur had opened them and taken a step inside.

"I'll take the risk. You can give me my first lesson tomorrow morning!"

"Morning?" he called after her as she went through the doors.

"Saturday. See you then!" And she closed the doors behind her.

"Women," he said, still standing outside. "I need to talk to someone who listens," he muttered, and started heading towards the stables where Mayla was residing.

Along the way, he took the opportunity to contemplate on his own terms just what happened earlier that day.

"What the hell does she want to learn illusionry for?" he wondered aloud. "Why is she so willing to potentially waste so much effort on something she probably can't do? Is this all a tactic in this competition of ours? Nah, that can't be it. She doesn't strike me as the type to be so underhanded, or she would have done this sooner. Maybe she thinks that if I teach her this, I'll teach her other things. Wait, that would mean she wants a tutor, and there's no way I'd do that. Besides, if she wants to be an animagus, she's going to have to learn on her own."

He arrived to find all the horses eagerly awaiting their dinner from none other than Chiffon, who was carrying Maya's dinner towards the sleeping dragon.

"Hello, Chiffon."

The little elf gasped. "I is sorry sir. I shall leave."

"No, it's okay. Listen, let me feed Mayla. She can get kind of grumpy when someone wakes her up." He carried the raw meat (lamb this week) over towards the resting Opaleye, and nudged her awake. Mayla stirred and opened her pupil-less eyes that gave the Antipodean breed it's name, and after recognizing Chey began to devour her meal.

"Chey McGonagall and Fleur Delacour have reconciled, sir?" Chiffon asked while standing aside. Chey looked at her a moment, bewildered as to how she had acquired such an idea. The elf seemed to read his mind, and said "I is seen you walking together."

"Just keep that little tidbit to yourself, okay?" he requested of her, exasperated by the day's events.

"Yes sir! Of course, sir!" and she proceeded to tend to the giant winged horses.

"Hey, Chiffon?" he asked when she was about to leave. He wanted to know something and he knew a house elf would give him an honest answer.

"Yes sir?"

"Do you think Fleur is the kind of person who would lie to get what she wanted?"

The elf thought it over for a moment, then answered "I is not think so, sir. She is never done that before."

"Okay, thanks," he said, satisfied, and the elf left the stable. He continued to keep Mayla company for a while longer, then patted her behind the neck and went back to the castle.

Back in the dormitory, he got ready for bed, all while wondering how on earth he was supposed to teach something he knew instinctively.

Author's Note.

Fleur's quite the type-A personality.

Sorry to leave you all with that cliffhanger. (They fell off a cliff! Get it? I guess not. Stiffs.) I just didn't want to spoil the mood.

I still appreciate all your feedback, and continue to look forward to your opinions.

Next chapter, get ready for a history lesson as Chey explains the lost art of illusionry! (That's probably the only teaser I'll ever do.)