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 Twenty

Experience

“I’ll be fine! Just wait here, Fleur. Vipe, stay put!”

The dragon obeyed by lying down on the ground, and when Fleur moved to follow, Vipey stopped her by nipping at the back of her blouse.

Chey could only wonder what could be so wrong that all available handler’s would have to be called to an isolation cell. Chuck had told him that it could mean either handler was seriously injured or a dragon had damaged the cell walls and was in danger of escaping on a rampage.

He arrived at the Hungarian Confinement area to find all the available handlers assembled, which consisted entirely of himself, Chuck, and some new recruit Chey had never seen.

“You raised the alarm, Chuck?” Chey asked.

“I did,” said the recruit.

“And who the hell are you?” Chey nearly accused him, despite the fact that Chey was younger.

“MacElroy. Weasley, what’s a kid doing here?”

“MacElroy, this isMcGonagall!”

“That crazy American you were talking about?”

“You can call me names later,” Chey interrupted. “Why the alarm, Chuck?”

“Chey, it’s Agnes.”

“She damage the wall?”

“She struck a handler with her tail. We have to get him out.”

“Got it, Chuck. It’s a smaller crew than I would have liked, but it’ll have to do. You pull him out, I’ll run diversion. Go.”

Chey and Chuck ran into the cell right away. Upon their entry, they saw Agnes resting around the rock spires, while the handler, bloodied and unconscious, lay fifty yards away behind a boulder he may have hidden behind before passing out. Chuck immediately dove for cover behind the rocks while Agnes was still unaware of their presence, and Chey fired multiple stunners at her head. Though they only glanced off, it was more than enough to garner her attention, and as she rounded on Chey, he took off, keeping sure he was in plain sight.

The plan was going smoothly, and as long as Chey could avoid Agnes’s flame, he could keep her away from Chuck. All Chuck had to do was stay hidden and keep away from her tail, all while dragging a potentially unconscious coworker past a dangerous and temperamental Hornail. The both of them would rather deal with a handful of Brians than be in this situation.

Alternating between stunning spells and shield charms, Chey glanced in Chuck’s direction and didn’t see him.

“Good, he knows how to keep hidden.”

When Chey looked a second time, what he saw frightened him. MacElroy was climbing over the rocks, paying no attention to any need for an element of stealth. Chey doubled his efforts to keep the dragon’s focus, now moving dangerously close and almost in range of her tail.

Chey saw MacElroy turn around, which could either mean he was retreating back to the door, or Chuck had reached the handler and was heading out, and without seeing Chuck, he couldn’t be sure.

MacElroy fell, and Agnes saw him. He had gotten too close to her. It was too late for Chey to do anything. Agnes swung her tail high in the air before bringing it down with all her force on MacElroy. She pulled her tail away, dripping with blood, and the body did not move.

Chey had to assume the worst. However, dead or alive, he had to pull him out. Being the only handler in the cell that he knew of, he needed to create an ally. He pointed his wand at a large mass of rock, and screamed “Rocca Draconis!” Instantly, the rocks stirred, and a stone dragon emerged from it.

Agnes, no longer concerned with the insignificant humans in her midst, now turned to the newly created intruder.

Letting the transfigured rock distract her, Chey ran to MacElroy’s body. Alive or otherwise, Chey couldn’t tell, only that healing spells were failing. He saw Chuck at the entrance, and heaved the body over his shoulder, moving about in the open confident that the Horntail was sufficiently distracted.

They closed the door behind them, and the unconscious handler was carried off, the lone doctor tending to him along the way.

MacElroy was declared dead at that moment.

Chey didn’t know how long he wandered the grounds, nor how long it was before the stone dragon would eventually be pummeled into dust by Agnes’s tail. When he finally came to his senses, he found that Fleur was standing next to him, and she had apparently heard that something tragic had occurred not too long ago.

“Are you alright?” she asked, and he felt Vipey’s head brush his hand.

“I should have told him to stay out,” was all he could say.

“Chey, he should have known to stay out,” he heard Chuck say from behind him.

“I was in charge! I’m responsible!”

“No one declared charge of the situation, and I had seniority!”

“But I had the higher license! I should have stopped him from participating.”

“The alarm said ‘high clearance handlers,’ and MacElroy wasn’t one of them. The only ones at fault are the people who trained him, and I’m sure you won’t be investigated.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, Chuck. I’m worried that some other rookie is going to die just like that. I don’t want this to be a sign of things to come.”

“I hear you, Chey. I’ve been worried about that myself ever since training standards started to slip. Though I doubt they’ll be able to overlook something like this.”

“You’re saying you think they’ll retrain everyone here? Sorry, I just don’t see them spending that kind of money.”

“So become a sponsor, Chey, and supply the money! I’m going to look up on Everson. The healer should be patching him up now.” With that, Chuck left the three of them, Chey, Fleur and Vipey, in the direction of the offices.

“I’ll understand,” Chey said, “if you’d want to head back to France right now.”

“No, I’ll stay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I need to get to know Vipey better.”

“He does seem to like you,” Chey said, watching Vipey nuzzling her face gently.

“What will happen now that the man has died?”

“His family will come to collect the body, they’ll read his will, which we all have to update every six months, and they’ll take his belongings and arrange the funeral on their own. Hopefully, the administration will consider the incident as an opportunity to revise the training regiment, but I doubt it.”

“I should have known you’d have a process for things like that.”

“Yeah,” Chey said passively. Hoping to distract himself from the day’s events, he said, “Why don’t we continue with your lessons?”

“What?”

“Illusion lessons.”

“Using magic outside of school...”

“This one doesn’t require a wand at all. It simply deals with frame of mind.”

“Alright. What is it?”

“The Illusionist’s Aura. It’s simple, requires only a knowledge of illusionry, and can’t be faked. Basically, it’s a visual representation of how much magic is attached to you.”

“Why can’t it be faked?”

“Because it represents power, and you can’t fake power.”

“...What?”

“It’s complicated, but it goes along the lines that magic cannot be copied. The aura doesn’t do anything, just let’s everyone know how much magic you have.”

“How do I do it?” she asked, clearly bored with explanations.

“First, I need to explain that magic is all over, just sitting in the air waiting to attach to you. Magic hangs around you, and when you cast a spell, it flows from the rest of your body to your wand hand. Then it goes into your wand, where it’s focused and amplified into something more usable to the average witch or warlock. The actual casting sends the magic into the air. This, of course, leaves a vacuum where more magic from the surrounding area rushes in to fill the gap, so you always have the same amount of magic surrounding you at all times.”

“How do I do it?”

“Close your eyes.”

“That’s it?”

“No, just makes it easier. Get ready to cast something harmless, like a shield charm. I want you to visualize the magic flowing around your body. Now imagine it moving to your wand hand. Imagine casting that charm, and while you do, visualize that magic flowing from your hand, and traveling through the wand and into the air in front of you. Now the magic elsewhere in the air is swooping in to replace what was attached to you that you used to cast the spell.”

It was faint, but a glowing, silvery blue smoke which danced more like flames had formed around her right forearm.

“Open your eyes and look at your arm.”

She looked at the swirling aura, and the longer she watched it, the more she focused and it became ever clearer.

“The Illusionist’s Aura is a reflection of your true self, so it’s unique to everyone, much like a patronus.”

She said nothing, just continued to stare at the spectral smoke, and she clearly had let her magic shift back to encompass her entire body, and now she was entirely surrounded by the aura.

“You still with me, Fleur?”

“Yes! Yes.” She came to her senses, and the aura vanished. “No, it’s gone!”

“That’s okay. You now know how to do it, so you can call it up anytime. In fact, it’s been known to crop up during focused spell casting or when the caster is extremely emotional. Try it again.”

She did so and the aura had returned.

“See how smoothly it swirls?” Chey went on. “That means your magic is stable.”

“Why would it be unstable?”

“Say, for instance, you and your wand weren’t totally compatible.”

“Is it this color for everyone?”

“No. Mine, for instance, is equal parts silver and black.”

“We’re both silver?”

“We’re both veela, remember?”

“Of course. Let me see your aura.”

“Some other time. I think Vipe wants to fly.”

MacElroy’s death had managed to catch the attention of the reservation’s administrators, who had launched a full investigation into who had caused it. Chey had his doubts about their motives, though. His theory was that the benefactors wanted to investigate whether it was worth it to continue their investment.

Chuck was more trusting of them, and beseeched Chey to go along with the investigation, however annoyingly transparent it may be.

“Just like I told the other one,” Chey said while being interrogated a second time several days following the incident, “Weasley and I went into the Horntail’s confinement area, unaware that MacElroy had followed, and while he was in there he made several mistakes that he would have known not to make had he been properly trained, and you can see the results of that quite clearly. Weasley and I were within protocol, he was not.”

“Are you saying you’re not responsible?” said his interviewer, clearly someone who had never worked with dragons in his life. Chey despised these management types.

“Absolutely. If you want answers, I suggest you talk to the people who trained him. Anything else I have to say is in the other investigator’s report.”

“So you’re done cooperating?”

“I’m done answering questions that have already been asked. Now would you mind leaving? My friend and I are heading off back to France within the hour.”

The interrogator obliged, leaving Chey’s office no wiser than the investigation’s other participants.

“Are you sure you should have been so rude to him, Chey?” Fleur asked once he’d left.

“He’s only the first I’ve ticked off. I’ve been polite enough to the others. It just bothers me that they’re running circles around the real problem, almost intentionally failing to see it.”

“So what do you think will happen?”

“One of two things. One, they determine that the training regiment need revision and spend money to retrain a bunch of people.”

“And what’s two?”

“They shut down the reservation.”

“And which is more likely?”

“Depends on how much it would cost to close down versus the price of retraining. You want to take off for Beauxbatons before someone else comes down to ask questions?”

“Yes, let’s.”

Chey and Fleur had arrived at Beauxbatons to find the staff had tightened security around the castle. At the main entrance teachers were checking the students returning from break.

“Show me your wands, Monsieur McGonagall and Mademoiselle Delacour,” said DuFendere, who, not surprisingly, had the shortest line of students waiting to reenter the castle.

“Why the security checks?” Chey asked.

Apparently happy to finally be spoken to, DuFendere’s tone was probably a bit too joyful. “All this business with escaped criminals, Madame Maxime saw fit to put these measures into place.”

“And what makes her think Sirius Black is in France?” Chey asked him, not expecting an answer.

“And for that matter, what makes anyone think he’s really a criminal?” Fleur said before DuFendere could answer. She surprised Chey, who wasn’t entirely sure she agreed with him on that topic. “What proof does anyone have?” Now Chey was certain.

Dufendere could do nothing but stutter and ask for their wands again, to which they complied.

“Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, does it?” Chey asked Fleur as they wandered the halls.

“It all makes sense to me,” she said. “They’re scared, so they’re taking outrageous measures to comfort themselves.”

“Yeah, but why now?”

“I’d imagine after Black broke into Hogwarts, they thought he might invade Beauxbatons, though I don’t understand why he would.”

“It’s been a whole two months since that incident. What took them so long to decide on a course of action?”

“Maybe they’re on government time.”

Chey couldn’t walk anymore he was laughing so hard. He even had to sit down in the middle of the hall. Fleur, laughing with him, albeit less intensely, helped him to his feet.

“That’s why I like you, Fleur,” he said once he had regained the power of speech he had lost in reacting to the shot at how slowly governments make decisions. “How’d you come up with that?”

“I thought it sounded like something you’d say.”

“I guess that means I crack myself up.”

Author's note.

Happy 2000 hits to Spirit of Fear!

Yes, Chey and Fleur seem to be getting along quite nicely. How long will it last? Time will eventually tell, as it always does. I know, that was a lame excuse for a teaser. Give me a break. I just had to write twelve pages about format wars. Not an easy thing to do in twelve hours, no sir!

On break from school right now. Sixteen pages of research and thirty pages of screenplay are over! Now I have time to work on Spirit of Fear, a Gundam Wing music video, playing Metroid Prime 3, and upgrading my computer. Somewhere in there is a visit to a renaissance fair. Gonna be a busy week.

I appreciate all your feedback, dear readers, and I look forward to more.