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 Thirty

Yet Another Introduction

The doors connecting the Great Hall with the entrance hall opened, and the room's energy, which had been bustling with feverish excitement, became a dead silence. Chey's aunt Minerva was leading a long line of rather small (and thoroughly drenched) children to the front. Minerva and the shivering children came to a stop at the front, and finally, the last remaining people gazing at Chey now rested their eyes on the frightened new students.

Minerva walked away from the herd of first years, fetching a three-legged stool and a mangy and patched old witch's hat which sat on top of it. She placed them in front of the trepidatious youngsters, who strained to see it better. The only one not looking at it was an exceptionally small boy who was wrapped in a moleskin coat ten times too big for him, and he seemed to be trying to communicate with someone sitting at the Gryffindor table.

With little warning, a tear in the hat's brim opened wide.

Throughout the hall rang a clever song about the hat's history. It spoke of the school's four founders, and what they valued most in a witch or wizard, and selected them into their houses accordingly. Chey remembered it had mentioned every one of these traits when it debated with itself where to place him. It then said how the founders devised a way to sort the students after their deaths, by enchanting a hat to think. Wrapping up, it dictated its duty, and the hall was filled with applause.

"Not bad," Chey said, clapping with the rest.

"Every year is different young man," Filius said. "You'd know that if you'd listened to your aunt when you were eleven and come here in the fist place."

"Now that's cold."

Minerva unrolled a large scroll, saying "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool. Once you have been sorted, you will sit at the appropriate table."

Chey laughed quietly at those words, remembering he wasn't exactly sitting at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart."

One of the first years approached the hat, trembling (be it from nerves or soaked robes), and louder than anyone else could shout the hat cried "RAVENCLAW!"

After handful more students, the small boy drowning in the moleskin coat was called. At that moment, an extremely large man (both wide and tall) who looked like he might own just such a coat, sporting a monstrous mane of hair with a beard to match, sat in the equally large chair next to Chey. He seemed to take no notice of Chey, contenting to watch the sorting. Chey had no firm idea what could make a man so large, but in the back of his mind suspected the man might be a half-breed. The idea was not unheard of, what with Chey being living proof of that.

The children continued approaching the hat with varying mixtures of fright and excitement. Finally, the last of the first years was sorted and sitting at the appropriate table. Minerva picked up the had and stool, carrying them off to the side.

Dumbledore stood up, and in a deep, calm voice said, "I have only two words to say to you. Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" came two voices in the direction of the Gryffindor table, and instantly a feast appeared on all the tables.

"Not quite five star," Chey said, "but you can't beat the presentation."

Only now had the large man next to Chey noticed him.

"Why, hello 'ere," he said in a heavy Scottish accent. Jokingly, he said, "Now let me guess: yer the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, aren't yea?"

"If so," Chey replied, "I'm overqualified."

"Ah, I knew who yea were when I saw yea. I'd recognize a relative o' Professor McGonagall any day."

"How so?"

"Yer aunt showed me a picture of yea las' week."

"That could go either way. What was she saying when she showed it to you?"

"Tha' yea were a smar' boy an' talented warlock."

"That doesn't sound like her."

"She tol' me yea had trouble takin' compliments."

"At least you were forewarned. Well, you know who I am obviously. So you might be?"

"Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of the grounds and Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Chey McGonagall. See the Daily Prophet's latest smear article on me for my résumé."

The noise level had not risen quite as much during the feast as Chey had expected. Clearly, the food was that good. It wasn't the French cuisine Chey had enjoyed last year (even if there was no bacon), nor the hearty Italian meals from Venice University, and it certainly wasn't backyard barbeque like they had on warm weekends back in the States. That wasn't to say the food wasn't excellent, only different. And it definitely hit the spot after a day of driving in the England countryside.

"So how'd yea fancy yer train ride up, Chey?" asked the man who Chey just realized was sized to a caliber equal to Madame Maxime.

"Oh, I didn't take the train," Chey replied.

"How in blazes did yea get here, then?"

"It's parked just outside the main entrance."

"Minerva told us you made quite an entrance at your last school," Filius joined in the conversation.

"Yeah, well showing up riding on the back of an Opaleye tends to leave an impression."

"Yea rode in on a dragon? That had to be a sight!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"I imagine it was," Filius added.

"Let me put it this way:" Chey started to elaborate. "Several eyewitnesses reported forgetting why they were there in the first place, so I'd say it was impressive."

"Was it flyin'?" Hagrid pried.

"Skimming the trees."

"Oh, wish I coulda seen tha' beauty!"

"Just imagine riding it, big guy."

"From a purely inquiring standpoint," came a voice beyond the great man to Chey's right, "how would you compare riding a dragon to riding a broom?"

"To start," he answered the faceless voice, "it's a lot smoother. They're larger, so they don't react to wind currents as easily. Second, if it's a midsized breed like the Antipodean or Hungarian, their wings are larger in proportion to the rest of their bodies, and they don't have to flap so much."

"And what of the larger and smaller breeds?"

"The small ones are built for speed, so they can't carry more than two average sized people very easily. The large ones like Ukrainians are always moving their wings just to stay aloft, and you're not going to get a very comfortable ride from them."

"And what about other creatures?" The voice's owner had finally leaned around Hagrid to communicate more effectively. If it weren't for the fact that Chey sensed none of the trademark charm from her, he would have sworn she was part veela. A second glance, however, told him that only her hair color in the yellow light from the candles had given him that first impression. Come to think of it, she looked rather hawk-like in her appearance. Almost hallow-looking grey eyes and short grey hair which stuck out at all angles made her look like she'd been in the open air a fair share of times herself. "Rolanda Hooch, flying instructor," she said, reaching her arm around Hagrid's great mass.

"Chey McGonagall," he replied, shaking her hand. "I can't really compare them to other creatures. They had a handful of the large winged horses at my last school, but they never really let students fly them. I've heard Hippogriffs lack the grace, but what I'd like to try is a thestral."

"Really?" Hagrid chimed in.

"Yeah. Trouble is, I've never been able to get my hands on one."

"Why didn' yea say so?" he nearly bellowed. "I got me the larges' domestic herd in all o' Britain right in the Dark Forest!"

Smiling at the possibility, Chey told him "I'll have to check that out."

All too soon, the feast had ended. What remained of the bounty had vanished, leaving sparkling clean plates and goblets on the tables. The chatter died as Dumbledore stood up to address them all.

It came to Chey how many different lights this Dumbledore man could be seen in one night. When Chey first entered the hall, the man seemed like just a figure in the room. When he called Chey's attention, he became an annoying old man he couldn't avoid, and later speaking to him was like debating a politician. Overlooking the sorting ceremony, he was almost grand-fatherly, announcing the feast he sounded like a nice old man from down the street, and during the feast he seemed like a regular joe you might share a table with at a restaurant. Now, as he presided before the assembly before him, he gave an air of his actual position of the school's headmaster. Chey now had a full understanding the degree to which they all respected him.

"So, now that we are all fed and watered," he said as the storm continued to howl and pound at the building, "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker," Chey's eyes were drawn to the corner of the room, where a gaunt looking man in a shabby coat and tail was standing, "has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." The wizard's mouth twitched, almost like he was entertaining the remote possibility that someone might actually reference the said list.

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year."

"Damn," Chey said under his breath. The forest is where Hagrid said the thestrals were, and with Dumbledore's announcement went Chey's hope of seeing them.

"Third, I would like to introduce an addition to the student body. Chey McGonagall has accepted my invitation to study at Hogwarts for his final year. He comes to us after attending six other schools in America, Italy, Russia, and France. I ask that you all make him feel welcome in our school."

That wasn't too bad an introduction. Dumbledore had cleverly skated around the issue of his six expulsions, and saying he was invited furthered Dumbledore's image as a believer in seventh chances. The assembly gave him a mild courtesy applause, and Dumbledore continued.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year. This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throught the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

A crack of thunder shook the walls while lighting streaked across the enchanted ceiling, and the doors to the Great Hall banged open with incredible timing. A hooded and cloaked figure stood in the doorway, leaning hard on a cane.

The man lowered his hood, and with an illuminating flash of lightning Chey saw the deeply scarred and disfigured face of Alastor Moody. Ever since Charlie told him he was considered by many to be deranged in the head, Chey had been wary of the man. He definitely looked to be insane, but the way he spoke to Chey was clear and intelligible. How could a man be insane if he knew the difference between a wizard and a warlock?

Limping, Moody made his way up the hall, a hallow thunk sounding with every other step. He finally reached Dumbledore, and held out an equally scarred claw of a hand.

"How are you, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked of him quietly, perhaps so as not to include the students in their conversation.

"Fine, Albus. Fine."

"I hope the Ministry hasn't given you too much trouble?"

"No," Moody replied, shaking his head.

"Good. Please, have a seat."

Moody limped around the table and sat to Dumbledore's right, and Chey could no longer see him for the other teachers at the table.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said again in his announcing tone. "Professor Moody."

Dumbledore and Hagrid applauded, but no one else. The students seemed all too stunned by Moody's bizarre appearance, and Chey wondered if they ever learned it was impolite to stare. Perhaps feeling awkward applauding into silence, Dumbledore and Hagrid stopped after a short time.

"As I was saying," he continued, though all minds in the room were fixated on Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" came a voice somewhere in the hall. The tension arising from Moody's arrival had been tossed away and a light laughter filled the hall.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied after having a laugh himself.

Another Weasley, Chey thought to himself. Man, they're everywhere.

"Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

There again, Dumbledore's image changed. From Headmaster to barstool buddy in the blink of an eye. If Charlie only told him now that Dumbledore never got into politics, Chey would never believe it.

Minerva cleared her throat loudly before Dumbledore could finish his narrative.

"Er–but maybe this is not the time...no..." Dumbledore collected his thoughts after that brief scatter, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Chey took the suggestion right away. As Dumbledore explained a brief history of the tournament, Chey's thoughts diverted to seeing his friends again. He amused himself as the students whispered amongst themselves when Dumbledore mentioned the Tournament's death toll, and laughed silently as the room buzzed at the headmaster let slip the prize money. And like Dumbledore's instant public image change, an uproar filled the hall in response to the age restriction.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year," Dumbledore started to wrap up. "I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give you whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

The hall was flooded with noise once again as the assembly crowded the doors.

Minerva had led Chey to the Gryffindor common room, and along the way gave him the run-down of the rules, to half of which Chey figured he could talk to Dumbledore about getting some leniency.

"And the Common Room is behind this portrait," she said as they came to an animated painting of a very large woman.

"Password?" asked the portrait.

"Balderdash," Minerva told it, and the portrait swung open to reveal the way.

"Tell me, 'Em," Chey asked. "Who thinks up the password?"

Minerva gave him a sideways glance and dismissed his question, unaware he was serious. Upon crawling through the portrait hole, Chey's eyes were assaulted with a blur of scarlet, ruby, garnet and gold colors flickering in orange firelight.

"Your dormitory is up the left staircase, the girls' dormitories are on the right," Minerva continued to explain. "You are not permitted in the girls' dormitories."

"Why? What'll happen?" Chey joked with a smile.

"For once in your life, Chey, take my word for it."

"All right, all right. Doesn't mean I won't try, though."

"Go to your room. You'll find your belongings have been fetched from your car and placed there. Try not to make too much of a mess for the house elves."

"Come on, 'Em," Chey replied as she left. "It's me! What are you worried about?"

He headed up the left staircase, finding the door marked "Seventh Year," and entered to find his roommates already settled. Two had already fallen asleep, while the other three were still awake.

"Ah, damn," said one boy upon seeing Chey. "We're stuck with the screwup."

"Off to a great start already, I see," Chey could only respond.

"What are you talking about?" asked a second boy.

"You don't recognize him?" replied the first. "From the story in the Daily Prophet? He was expelled from six schools!"

"Technically, only three times," Chey corrected him.

"And now Dumbledore's brought him here so he can earn his seventh expulsion," they boy continued. "Always knew the man was a nutter."

The second boy seemed to agree with every word, but the third boy remained silent, merely watching the conversation from across the room.

Chey suddenly had no will to argue the case further, and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep.

"You know the beauty of this situation?" Chey said in his way of ending a conversation. "You don't have to talk to me, and I don't have to listen to you. Let's exploit that, shall we?"

And without waiting for a response he leapt onto the mattress of the four-poster bed he was designated, waving his illusionary wand to close the curtains and let them talk amongst themselves about him while he fell asleep.

Author's note.

Happy 5000 hits to Spirit of Fear! Well, 5200 as of this posting, but it was only 4600 when I posted the last chapter. Thank you so much for reading, everyone! By the way, that wasn't a sign-off. There's still more Spirit of Fear to come!

Ninety percent of Dumbledore's speech is verbatim from the book, I know. This is about all the book copying you'll read for the next few chapters. At least, until the next super-important event. Don't know when that'll be. Haven't written that far yet.

Again, thank you so much for everyone's feedback. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship. (walks into sunset, fade out, roll credits)