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 (excluding the aforementioned characters, settings, and story) a work by Thomas Holman.

Chapter 2

Bite Force

“Chey! We got incoming!”

“On my way, Chuck.” Chey had gotten into the habit of shortening Charlie’s name. His rationale was that calling him “Charlie” was like speaking to either a little kid or a really old man, and seeing as Charlie was neither, it was more fitting to call him Chuck. Fortunately for Chey, Chuck had gotten into the habit of being called by that name.

“What we got?” Chey asked as the two of them rushed from the offices to the reception area.

“Peruvian! Came in without handlers!”

“That’s a problem.” Dragons never came in without handlers. But why would a rogue dragon come here voluntarily? Especially a Peruvian Vipertooth? Unless... “Vipey?!”

Vipey was fending off a dozen handlers trying to get a hold of him. Chey stopped in his tracks, watched the scene for a little bit, and casually walked towards the temperamental lizard.

“VIPE!!” Chey yelled. The commotion ceased, and the dragon looked his way. Chey picked up a chain from the ground, and tossed it in so it wrapped around the dragon’s neck. He then pulled the chain down until the dragon’s eyes were level with his. “What part of ‘behave yourself’ did you not understand?!”

“You know this one, new guy?” one of the wranglers asked.

“‘Course I know him. He’s mine! Looks like he shook off the handlers. I told them to be patient with him. He was probably a little too anxious to see me and they couldn’t figure that out. Guess they didn’t read my instructions closely enough.”

“I’m having a hard time believing a 15 year old can have custody of one of the most dangerous dragons to humans,” the handler replied.

“Class Echo handling license, bub. Do I have to prove it, or can I take care of this guy?”

“What do you plan to do with him?” Chuck asked when the scene had dispersed, and Vipey had calmed down to an acceptable level.

“Remember that isolated pen I asked for?”

“You’re putting him in there?”

“He’s also going to help us tame the more rambunctious residents here. He’s great at conflict resolution.”

“Remember how I said Vipe was good at dealing with difficult personalities, Chuck?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he’s gonna help us deal with Brian today.”

Brian was an oversized Hebridean Black dragon, a particularly nasty breed with a taste for humans. None of the reserve’s handlers braved dealing with him without the benefit of high yield stunners and a dozen assistants. It goes without saying that Brian lived in isolation from the other dragons. It was very risky to deal with Brian.

But Chey had an idea.

Vipertooths are the smallest breed of dragon. However, their size allows them to achieve speeds and feats of agility that other breeds can’t begin to reach. Vipey was no ordinary dragon; he was very, very smart. He could understand Chey’s commands and act accordingly. His capacity for strategy was also significantly high for a Peruvian Vipertooth, which were already an intelligent breed. Vipey had even fended off an Ironbelly that was nearly three times his size and four times his weight. Vipey’s natural speed and agility kept him alive.

“Okay, Chuck,” Chey started once they’d retrieved Vipey from his pen and made their way over to Brian’s cell. It was some weeks after Vipey’s arrival, and he had already settled in. “Vipe’s gonna run decoy, keep Brian busy, and us two will stun him and stick him with his scale rot medicine. Sound good?”

“Wait, did you just say ‘the two of us?’”

“Yeah,” Chey said as though there were nothing unusual about that. “That a problem?”

“You’re mad, Chey! No one goes in there without at least ten backups!”

“So you’re not coming?”

“No! And neither are you without more handlers!” Chuck was decided and there was no changing his mind about it.

“I got Vipe. I’m good.”

Vipey made a soft snapping noise in agreement. Chey was holding Vipey by a collar. Vipey was on all fours, and in this position, his head was level with Chey’s. It made for a somewhat comical sight; a copper colored, short-horned scaley head next to Chey’s face with his silver hair and eyes, both of them with very passive expressions.

“No you’re not!” Chuck was adamant, and there was no way for Chey to make it clear to him that Vipey was all the backup he needed. “Brian came into the reservation a feral. We lost three handlers trying to reign him in when he first came! He’s killed four since he’s been here! Signing that will when you sign up to work here doesn’t make you invincible, mate!”

“I know what signing the will means. It means that this is a dangerous job and my possessions and estate will be taken care of in the event of my demise. I’m not an idiot, Chuck.”

“Then you’re not going in there.” At that very moment, there was a terrible roar of rage coming from inside Brian’s cell. All three faces looked in the direction of the sound, then Chuck turned back to face the other two and said “You see?!”

Chey continued to study the cell door for a moment, then turned to Vipey and said “Can you take him?”

Vipey made the same soft snap with his voice, confirming that he was capable of doing his job.

“Okay, let’s go. Open the door Chuck.”

Chuck did just the opposite. In a last ditch effort to talk Chey out of signing his own death warrant, Chuck had pulled out his wand and magically locked the door. He then conjured several heavy wooden planks that plastered themselves over the entire doorway. Chey and Vipey stared at the results of Chuck’s desperation as Chuck walked away to get more help.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Vipe.” Chey effortlessly removed the barricade with his own spell, tossed away Chuck’s locking charm as though it were a crumpled piece of paper, opened the door, and led Vipey in. “You know the drill. Go.”

Vipey let out the loudest roar he could achieve, while Chey ran off along the edge of the circular cell, using the boulders for cover. Vipey’s distraction worked, for Brian was now totally focused on him. The two of them growled at each other, both taking the aggressor’s position. Every now and then one would roar and shoot a flame into the air. The two of them had different ways of demonstrating strength. Brian had his size, and his black skin gave him a menacing look, while Vipey would occasionally leap forward, then retreat at a speed only a Vipertooth could achieve. Only one of the dragon’s tactics worked: Brian had obviously never dealt with other dragons before, so Vipey’s strategy succeeded in startling him.

Brian had enough. He attempted to strike Vipey, but the speed difference was a huge factor, for Brian missed by a mile. Vipey had one eye on Brian, one eye on Chey. A Hebridean Black’s theoretical blind spot was directly behind it; theoretical because no one had confirmed it. All anyone knew was that a Hebridean could not turn it’s head far enough to reach the base of it’s tail. Chey was about to test it.

Vipey had been slowly circling Brian with the intent of keeping his attention away from Chey as he moved to get behind Brian. There was just one problem.

The biggest signal of a dragon’s mood is it’s tail. Brian’s tail said “I’m agitated” in the language of occasional swings at the air. This activity was proposed to be a defense mechanism to counteract the Hebridean’s blind spot.

Brian’s tail activity was erratic and so random that it was hard for Chey to get a good feel for when to strike. Chey had seen this before: in cartoons. It was very much like a garden hose turned up to the point that it no longer lies flat on the ground. Unfortunately, the classic cartoon character’s strategy of holding onto the hose for dear life brought no inspiration to Chey, and shutting off the valve was not an option in this scenario. But part of the cartoon’s tactic did make sense: stop it from moving.

It happened nearly all at once. Brian’s tail was slammed to the rock and held down by an invisible force that manipulated the air in a way that there was a shimmer effect above the dragon’s tail. Brian, startled by the sudden restraint, let out a surprised roar, and turned his head to see what in fact had grabbed onto his tail. Vipey seized the chance, and Brian as well, as he leapt into the air and came down hard on Brian’s head, hold him to the ground.

This gave Chey ample time to administer treatment for Brian’s scale rot on his back, which contained a powerful sedative so he wouldn’t move and irritate the affected area. After Chey was satisfied that Brian was sedate enough, indicated by his weakened struggles, Chey signaled to Vipey that it was safe to release Brian, and they made their way to the door. As Chey exited, Vipey close behind, Brian’s grumbles could be heard quite clearly.

Waiting just outside was a team of twenty handlers, Chuck included. Until Chey’s emergence, they had been looking at the wooden planks that were now stacked neatly by the door.

“All done with him for today guys. All taken care of.”

The team stood there, as though trying to figure out what had just happened.

Before long, it was time for Chey to once again pretend he cared about his education. Chuck had agreed to take care of Vipey while Chey attended Durmstrang, and Vipey agreed to let Chey go as long as he came to visit during breaks. Chuck had raised the concern that Chey didn’t know Russian, but Chey assured him it was nothing a quick spell couldn’t fix. Chuck then warned him never to mention to his aunt that learning can be accomplished by magic.

“See you around, Chuck. And Vipey, behave yourself! I mean it!” Chey warned as he left.

The Durmstrang property was huge. They even had some small mountains with decent enough gradients for some exhilarating snowboard runs, and a large lake with a ghastly looking ship, which Chey took a liking to. The castle was ancient, possibly stretching well beyond Medieval times. When he first glanced it, he was awed by the kind of upkeep it must have required. Then he slapped himself back into reality as he remembered that this was a magical world, and things such as age are of little consequence.

Chey’s first question probably wasn’t the best one to ask.

“When do those mountains get enough snow to ride down without hitting a rock?”

What made matters all that more awkward was his choice of venue. He shouted it from the front door of the entrance hall when it was full of people. It was nonetheless an effective way of getting the attention of a faculty member.

“Can I help you, young man?” asked a middle-aged man with a dark beard reaching halfway down his chest.

“Chey McGonnagal. Here to pick up my schedule.”

“You’re the American student who filed for transfer here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. So, about those mountains?”

“Late November. Until then, you can attend your classes. I am Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang.”

“Cool. You got a map to this place?”

It seems Chey was a little hard to keep up with for the old guy, so he was handed off to one of the students, a stocky boy Chey’s age named Viktor. Viktor was patient enough with Chey’s haphazard conversation style to not clobber Chey in the face. Chey quickly learned that Viktor was the top dog on campus.

“So, does everyone say hi to you all the time, or is it just a start of the year thing?”

“My flying skills are popular, not me.” Viktor responded solemnly, as though he wasn’t very proud of his accomplishment.

“What kind of flying?”

“Broomstick, what else?

“Sorry, I’m just familiar with multiple forms of flight.”

“Such as?”

“Well, aside from the method previously stated, there’s flight by dragon, winged horse, free fall, levitation, and then all the non-magical forms.”

“And how many have you experienced?” Viktor asked as they toured outside on the grounds.

“All except the winged horse. Can’t seem to get my hands on one. You?”

“I prefer the broom. More control. Are you any good?” It was obvious where he was going with this.

“Decent enough. Speed’s more my thing. I’ve clocked 120 unassisted on last year’s Nimbus. Picked up an ‘01 a few weeks ago. Traded up. What do you fly?”

“Same thing.”

Chey smelled a challenge coming on, so he figured now was as good a time as any to make it, because at this point it didn’t matter who proposed it.

“Given that our vehicles are identical, why not a test of skill?” Chey suggested. They were now outside, and the weather was calm, so neither could resist the opportunity.

“We race up the mountain, circle the summit, cross over the lake, follow the path around the castle, then fly underneath the arches back to this spot,” Viktor proposed as he used a summoning charm on his broom, which was presently residing with the rest of his belongings in the dorms. The broom was in his hand when he finished the sentence.

Chey did likewise as he said “Deal.” A crowd seemed to sense the impending competition, and had gathered at the agreed upon start and finish line. The two of them lined up, and a spectator agreed to signal the start.

Viktor kicked off hard from a standoff, while Chey ran a few steps, tossed his broom forward, jumped, and mounted it in midair. They both made a beeline for the mountain’s summit, on which was a flag. Chey figured that it had been used as a race marker before, and it made for a nice reference point. They both rounded it, Viktor following Chey. They then flew low to the dirt on the way down the slope, dodging the trees that had, over the years, conquered the hillside and had spread out to indicate the dominion of plantlife over mountain. Chey’s unfamiliarity with the tree’s location cost him time, for Viktor navigated them full tilt as though guided by the invisible rails of instinct. Over the water was where Chey made up for lost momentum. Flat regions were his specialty: a result of his high speed runs over the Nevada deserts. Close to the far shore, the ship was docked, and the two of them cleared it’s deck by inches. Beyond the ship was the path. As they rocketed over it, shoulder to shoulder, a cloud of dust followed them, picked up from the loose dirt that made up their point of reference on the ground. They followed the path, neck and neck, in a long arc that circled to the back of the castle. At the end, the arches began. Flying only high enough that they wouldn’t hit anyone on the ground, they streaked toward the crowd of people that marked the finish line. They streaked ever closer, until finally, with thirty feet remaining, Chey pulled back.