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.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine

One Final Grand Entrance

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The sun had set, though no one would have noticed what with the black clouds covering the sky. The rain deterred anyone from looking to the sky when lightning flashed. A line of carriages traveled towards a dark castle, splashing on the soaked, winding gravel path and swaying in gale force winds.

The last of the carriages had passed through the gates, flanked by winged boars, when a loud roar punched through the darkness. Several students jumped in their seats and whipped around to see what had caused such a frightening sound.

Two lights, level with each other, peered into the near darkness in the direction of the sound. The gravel on the path rumbled as rubber wheels rolled up the path behind the last carriages, and a low grumble continued when the beastly roar was absent.

Another roar, this time closer, followed by the continued, ever present gumble, and some students pulled out their wands. Now the lights had diverted off the gravel path and traveled on the grass, still moving towards the castle.

A third roar frightened the small birds hiding in the trees. The equivalent of an entire flock rose into the air. A bolt of lightning illuminated the creatures, and the light allowed the children their first look at the source of the mysterious noise and lights.

The light did little to reveal it’s features, but did allow a glance at the large and black object’s shape. Rectangular at the front, it rose around it’s middle and tapered off at the back where two red lights glowed in the rain-thick air. A dim light emitted through it’s windows from within its center.

The object continued forward, passing the carriages, occasionally thundering it’s mighty growl to alert others to its presence. Rolling alongside the path it moved ever closer to the castle. Then, barely in the light of the torches near the castle’s entrance, the object turned away from the path, and began to travel in a tight circle.

All of a sudden, it sprang to life, spraying mud and grass behind it as it’s back end swung outward. It began to rotate around it’s front end, all while slaughtering the silence with it’s deafening, beastly roar.

Once, twice, three times it rotated, when it suddenly broke it’s circle, and started moving sideways towards the castle, all while bellowing it’s thunder and spraying mud behind it. The instant it approached the gravel path’s edge, it stopped. The vociferous clamor reduced to a low growl, and the onlookers stared at the mint-condition black nineteen-sixty-nine Dodge Charger with silver trim which was now resting properly in the torchlight.

The car’s lights turned off, the engine cut out, and a young man of seventeen with silver hair stepped out of the driver’s seat, jingling the keys in his hand, the rain magically avoiding him. He closed the door, and made his way to the castle steps. Stopping just short of the enormous oak double-doors, he said to the drenched and bewildered spectators:

“Nice night for a drive, wouldn’t you say?”

Entering through the doors, the most prominent thing in the torch-lit entrance hall was a large marble staircase leading to upper floors. Just inside the doors to the left and right were four giant hourglasses, each with thousands of red, green, blue or yellow gems. The students were all headed through double doors on the right of the hall. Inexplicably, the floor was extremely wet.

“Chey, good to see you made it,” came a voice from the double doors. There was no mistaking that judgmental tone.

“I’m here, Aunt Em,” Chey responded, almost obligatorily. “You got your way, as usual.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“First you made me take the OWLs, now I’m here at your school.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you...What is that?”

“What’s what?”

“Outside.” She pointed straight out the doors, where the Charger was in plain view.

Chey figured there was nothing to say, so he only smiled. She knew he liked that car, but she obviously never counted on him driving it to Hogwarts.

“I cannot believe you brought-” But she failed to complete her scolding, as a large red water balloon streaked between them, impacting the floor and adding to the small flood of water in the hall. Looking in the direction of the balloon’s origin, Chey saw floating in the air a little man in a bell covered hat, orange bow tie, and malicious expression. Though he’d never actually seen one, there was no doubt this was a poltergeist.

“PEEVES!” Minerva screamed at the cackling poltergeist as it wound up for a second shot.

Certain this joker would be a problem later on if not dealt with immediately, Chey pulled his illusionary wand from his hip like a sidearm, and flicking it just for show sent a shock wave in the poltergeist’s direction.

Peeves clearly did not appreciate the disturbance, ironically because he obviously relishes in his own work, and he screamed as he left the hall, and a few dripping students applauded Chey’s efforts.

“Thank you, Chey,” Minerva said to him. “I think he’s done for the night. Come in and have a seat at the staff table.”

“Why?”

“Well...you’re the Triwizard Mediator of course!”

“I’m also a student. Besides, if people knew my position, they might try to buddy up for that reason. I’m not into that. Therefore, unless the staff get better tasting food that the students, I’ll be sitting with my peers and they’ll be none the wiser.”

Minerva thought it over for a moment, and finding nothing objectionable about Chey’s decision, smiled and said, “Sometimes I forget how much like your parents you really are.”

“Kind of frightening to think what my kids would be like, eh?” Chey joked.

“I’d talk longer, but I must fetch the first years. Go on in.”

She headed off in the opposite direction down a corridor, and Chey remembered a map to the castle was one of his conditions.

Chey followed the other students through the doors. He was greeted by an overload of activity. Hundreds of students were seated at four long tables, while the faculty presided at a fifth table up front. Just overhead, thousands of candles lit the areas the torches failed to reach, while the ceiling accurately represented the stormy sky above. A handful of ghosts drifted around the tables, some sitting with students, and the tables glittered with golden plates and goblets.

Assuming the red banner (which matched the pin Minerva had sent in a letter asking him to pin it to his robe while at school) indicated the Gryffindor table, and made his way past the other three. As expected, he received some curious glances from his new fellow students, and he surmised many were just wondering if he looked familiar at all. It wasn’t everyday (for most) that a new student transfers in for his seventh year.

He scanned the Gryffindor table, not expecting to see anyone familiar, but to his surprise-

“Oh, hurry up. I could eat a hippogriff.”

“Not recommended, Red” Chey said, and the trio froze, not quite turning as pale as the ghost sitting next to them.

“You’re-” the fiery red-head stammered.

“Hey, Whiskers, Specks.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked, staring up at him.

“I still have one more year left, and I’m running out of schools.”

“So Dumbledore let you in?” Ron asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, he’s such a great guy,” Chey said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he glanced up at Dumbledore, who sat at the center of the table resting his chin on his fingertips. It was odd that the man always seemed to be looking at a part of oneself not normally perceptible.

“Something wrong?” Hermoine seemed to sense his tone.

“Huh?” Chey snapped back to reality. “Oh. Nothing really worth mentioning. What-?”

A small piece of parchment folded once over was floating not six inches from Chey’s face. Taking it from the air and unfolding it, he saw written in a deliberate and even hand was the sentence, “I expect you’ve declined your aunt’s invitation to sit with us, but please allow me to persuade you further.”

Chey crumpled the paper in his hand, and looked up towards the most likely source. Dumbledore smiled slightly more for a second, and Chey thought he sensed the wizard’s magic recede a little, perhaps to seem more inviting.

“You know what?” he said to the trio sitting at the table. “I’ll catch up with you later. I got to see a man about what classifies as ‘magically insane.’”

This man has to be crazy, Chey thought as he walked towards the smiling old wizard. He was far too trusting of strangers for his liking.

Further stares followed Chey as he approached the staff’s table, but this time he didn’t care. They could be throwing their plates at him, and it wouldn’t matter to him. All that mattered was figuring out what this old man’s train of thought was. Maybe if he could discern that, he could find the real reason he was invited here. There were far better candidates, so why him?

Not bothering to walk around, he stopped directly across the table from Dumbledore.

“I’ll admit it, old man,” he started. “The decor’s not bad.”

“Your praise is much appreciated. Now, won’t you sit with us?”

“I’m a student, right? Shouldn’t I therefore be seated with the other students?”

“You and I both know you are not just a student.”

“But a student nonetheless.”

“And how could I possibly introduce the Triwizard Mediator if he is seated all the way over there?”

“How can I have an unbiased position in my duties if everyone tries to be my friend upon learning of my appointment?”

“Your aunt did mention you would bring up that argument.”

“Aunt Em understands me well.”

“And as such, I’m prepared with a counter-argument.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Would you change your mind if I did not introduce you as the Mediator.”

“Not really, because without that I would have no excuse to be up here. My peers will wonder why I’m up here, deduce the possibility that I am one of your favorite students, and they will treat me as such.”

“You are quite well versed in methods of shaping public image.”

“I should be. I have given the world the impression that I am unruly and crass. In truth, I’m not such a bad guy.”

“Indeed you are not. And you have done well to give that impression, for even I had prejudged you when first hearing of your exploits.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As you should.”

“And out of curiosity, what was your predisposition?”

“That you were incapable of feeling like you belong somewhere.”

Chey had no answer to that. He’d never suspected that anyone, least of all himself, would have made that conclusion. Yet he could not deny the possible validity of it.

“Might I have one more go at persuading you to sit with us?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“It is my understanding that you originally wished to study on your own because you felt a school couldn’t challenge you enough.”

“Still true to this day.”

“What if I told you I could challenge your skills like you never have been?”

“I’d be interested.”

“Then why don’t you sit down and get acquainted with your instructors?”

“Damn you’re shrewd.”

“Shrewd enough to convince you?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Then won’t you please have a seat?”

The Headmaster indicated one of a handful of empty seats. There were four empty chairs in total, and Chey presumed one of them (the one next to Dumbledore), was Minerva’s. Another empty seat was next to the slick-haired man Chey had met during the Christmas break of his fifth year. Remembering how snide the man was, and how equally snide Chey was in return, Chey’s eyes diverted to a pair of empty seats. One was quite large, and he deduced an unusual chair would only be specially provided for an unusual person. Feeling quite ordinary, he looked to the final seat, situated between the large empty chair and a rather aged (and extremely short) wizard, who seemed a tad too excited about the proceedings.

Chey walked around the table, sensing Dumbledore’s eyes following him. He took his seat, and almost immediately the little wizard sprang to life.

“You’re Minerva’s nephew, aren’t you?”

“How’d you guess?” Chey asked as a reply, not really expecting an answer.

“Why else would Dumbledore ask a student to sit with the staff?”

“Good point.”

“Filius Flitwick, Charms Teacher.”

“Chey McGonagall, Class Echo dragon handler, six-time subject of expulsion, and certifiable sufferer from occasional delusions of normalcy.”

“That’s quite a resume, young Mister McGonagall.”

“That’s not even the half of it.”

“Well, I look forward to testing your abilities as a student.”

“And I anticipate a challenge, Filius.”

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Author's note.

Wow. I stop posting these author's notes and the feedback just flows. There goes my self esteem. No, no, I'll be fine. (sniff)

And so, Chey is finally at Hogwarts. Whether this year will be all sunshine and roses is yet to be revealed.

Yes. Chey absolutely had to drive that car to school. And he just had to do a donut in the wet grass followed by a sideways drift to do a perfect parallel park. He's just cool like that. Sorry it's not a Caddy, but the '69 Charger was one hell of a car.

I've received concerns that Chey might be too overpowered. Let me assure you that I have realized this. But this is not a story about a boy becoming stronger over time, like the books follow Harry. Rather, it's more about Chey's role in the plot, and his growing relationships and developing interactions with the other characters. I hope this explains it well.

As always, I am loving your feedback. Keep it coming! And to my fellow Americans, a Happy Thanksgiving to all!