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 Thirty-Two

Daunted

--

“Alright, ‘Em. Whadda ya got in mind?”

“I’ve realized teaching you traditional Transfiguration would be meaningless,” Minerva explained when he arrived in her office that afternoon, “so I’ll primarily be giving you exercises to perfect your mastery of the craft.”

“Talking to an animagus, here. Not much left to master.”

“Be quiet. Transfiguration is not about spells, wands and incantations, despite what I and other teachers may have implied.”

“Oh, do continue, wise one! I’m so anxious to learn!”

“Drop the sarcasm, Chey. As evidenced by any animagus, Transfiguration needn’t require a wand or incantation.”

“Kinda figured that already.”

“Chey, even you require a wand as it stands now. What you’re going to learn is how to manipulate raw magic to accomplish tasks which have no easy incantation.”

“Just for giggles,” Chey asked her, “why do they even bother teaching incantations?”

“Centuries ago, they were a way to get magical students into the right mindset to cast them. Trouble is, so many failed to rise above using them, and now they’re shamefully used everyday by everyone.”

“And you thought I was lazy.”

“Follow me.” She headed out the door, Chey obediently following. They walked down the hallways for a short while, passing two other classes in session. Finally, they arrived at an door leading to an plain room.

“Kinda ordinary, ain’t it?”

“Yes, and there are two other rooms just as ordinary, one behind the left wall and one behind the right.”

“And that means what to me?”

“I want you to combine these rooms.”

“Say who now?”

“These three rooms are to be combined into a single dueling hall.”

“And why haven’t they been made such before?”

“You weren’t here to be told to do it.”

Immediately suspecting one of her tactics, he opened his senses to find any trace of something that might inhibit him in his task, but oddly found none. There was no jinx on any of the walls, no spell designed to interfere, not even an oddly shaped frog. These really were just three ordinary rooms in a magical castle.

“What’s the catch?” he asked, still suspicious.

“Only one magical act for the entire process, it must be structurally sound as it will be a permanent installation, and no illusions.”

“No problem, ‘Em.”

“And don’t use your wand.”

“WHAT?!!”

“I expect the result to look like one seamless room, and that means matching the color of the bricks.”

“NO WAND?!!”

“That’s right, Chey. No wand. You must use the magic that naturally attaches to you. You may not amplify it at all.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Not at all.”

“Hold on a sec,” Chey said, the dawn of realization having shone upon him. “This is a lesson in humility. You don’t think I can do this!”

“I do expect you’ll have difficulty-”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What are you willing to wager I won’t get this figured out?”

She smiled, saying “Oh, I expect you’ll solve it. Just not before the month is over.”

“A month?” Chey said, feeling insulted. “Plenty of time! Now, what’s my incentive to figure it out sooner?”

“What do you think about no curfew?”

Now there was an enticing thought. Not that a curfew ever stopped Fleur and him from sneaking out at Beauxbatons. But it would be nice to not be breaking any rules for once.

“Deal!” he said without giving it much further thought.

“Agreed,” she said turning to leave. “And remember: no wand!”

With that, she had locked the door behind her, perhaps to both ensure he wasn’t disturbed and that he couldn’t sneak to the library to research a solution.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, let’s see.”

It was a tremendous task indeed. The exclusion of his illusionary skills was certainly a deviation from how he normally worked on such projects, but it wasn’t too big a challenge. To make it structurally sound also meant he couldn’t use magic to support it, since spells aren’t normally permanent. And making it seamless was child’s play for him.

But two things made it far more difficult. It had to be one single act of magic, and he couldn’t use his wand. Individually, these were molehills somewhat easily passed, but they combined to create a mountain of a problem.

He had never performed an act of magic this large on his own before. The most he had done without a wand was the Illusionist’s Aura, a far cry from transfiguring three rooms into one. Being honest with himself, he really had little confidence he could pull it off.

But perhaps she wouldn’t know he’d used a wand?

--

“All done, ‘Em,” he said after a few hours.

Indeed he was done. The walls separating the rooms were gone, and the rafters had been realigned such that they would support the weight of the floors above. It all looked as though it had always been like this.

“Very good, Chey,” she said. “A fine example of what the final result should look like.”

“Aw, shucks, ‘Em.”

Minerva then pulled out her wand, and touching it to his right arm said “Priori Incantatem.”

Ghostly images of bricks appeared, which then began to move about the room in exactly the fashion the real bricks had done when Chey had rearranged them not an hour ago.

“A nice try, Chey,” she said with a smile, whisking away the spectral building materials with a wave of her wand. “But you should know better than to underestimate me. I trust you won’t be up out of bounds, else I shall take twenty-five points from Gryffindor.”

Chey was too annoyed with her skepticism to speak. He really should have predicted she wouldn’t be so trusting. This might have worked if he’d pretended to have difficulty with it, but it was too late now.

Minerva changed the one room back into the original three, all the while wearing a very smug expression.

“We’ll try again next week then?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Chey said as he left the room, sulking all the way.

--

Transfiguring the room took a lot of effort. Combining hundreds of severing charms, modified levitation charms, and permanent sticking charms exhausted Chey, and Minerva’s discovery of his method drained his last ounce of energy.

He made his way up to the Gryffindor tower, ignoring everyone on the way. He’d barely noticed not having to say the password to enter the portrait hole, as other people were coming out. He wandered to the far table by the window and sat down, not caring that so many eyes were watching him.

Raithe in his ever-knowing manner appeared outside the window, and Chey recalled that Fleur’s letter was still in his pocket. He opened the window to let him in, only to see a saker falcon flutter in a few seconds later.

“Well, you look awfully familiar,” Chey said to the bird, as it looked very much like the one that had delivered Viktor’s letter to him after Maxime’s scathing article. Indeed, the falcon had a letter for him, and confirming Chey’s suspicions.

“I’d start by asking if you made it out of the World Cup in one piece, but I already know you’re fine. It would have to take more than that to take you down, Chey.

I’m sure you know by now, but Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are reviving the Triwizard Tournament.

Naturally, Karkaroff wants me to participate. Ever since I started winning Quidditch matches, he’s been trying to be my best friend. I’m sure you understand how annoying that can be.

But after all the excitement of the World Cup, I think I’d rather have a quiet year. Trouble is, I doubt Karkaroff would let me.

I’m sure you have an idea of two on how to change his mind?

Viktor.”

“Looks like Viktor’s not enjoying the limelight too much,” Chey said to himself, hearing yet more people enter the common room. Looking up, Chey saw these two people were Charlie’s brother Ron and his friend Harry, the two of them chatting excitedly with wide smiles on their faces.

“And did you see his face when McGonnagal changed him back?”

“Yeah, that was brilliant!”

“Hey Red! Specks!”

They stopped short, and exchanged glances before approaching him.

“You’re...Chey, aren’t you?” Harry asked. “Professor McGonagall’s...”

“I’m her nephew.”

“But you’re nothing like her,” Ron noticed.

“How fortunate.”

“So is she actually nice to you?”

“Not really.”

“Why are those birds on the table?” Harry asked, clearly full of questions that evening.

“The raven here is mine. The falcon belongs to a friend of mine back in Russia.”

“Russia?”

“Durmstrang.”

“Durmstrang is in Russia?”

“Yeah, but they like to keep hush-hush the exact location. So, what was so damn funny?”

“Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret!” Ron proclaimed.

“Malfoy? I’ve heard that name before.”

“He’s a total git, if that helps.”

“Hey, ain’t there a Lucius Malfoy who keeps showing up at charity events?”

“That sounds like him,” Harry said.

“Yeah, I figured a guy doing that much charity work had to be shady.”

“Where do you get that idea?”

“Compensation. See it in the aristocracy all the time. The most charitable people almost always have something to hide. So, not a fan of this Malfoy kid, are ya?”

“Exactly.”

“He and Harry have been at odds since they met,” Ron explained.

“What’d he do?” Chey asked, eager to know what could spawn such animosity.

“He’s arrogant, he’s crude, and he’s a sniveling slimy rat!” came a voice from across the room, which further investigation revealed it was the third member of the trio, Hermoine. “What more do you need?”

“You know, I was just wondering where you were.”

“The library,” Ron answered for her.

“Ah. So if he and Specks are at wit’s end with each other, why are you so steamed?”

“He tried to hex me on my way back, then started chanting ‘Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood!’”

“Wow,” Chey could only react. He’d never really heard of that term being used in malice before. “You guys still use that word?”

“He does. Just about everyone else has grown up.”

“Hold up a sec,” Chey said as he realized the connection. “You’re non-magical descent, Whiskers?”

“What about it?” she said with a haughty indignation he’d only seen in Fleur when she was ever confronted with the likelihood she couldn’t accomplish something.

“Nothing. Just goes to show those things don’t matter, don’t it?”

“Yeah, Hermoine,” Harry chimed in. “I mean, you’re the top student here. Malfoy shouldn’t bother you.”

“I suppose.” She sighed, and changed the subject to something more pleasant. “So, Chey, how was your first day at Hogwarts?”

“I gotta say,” he began, then finding nothing better to describe it, said, “this country is freakin’ bizarre.”

“It is not!” Ron interjected.

“Think about it: you guys live in total isolation from the rest of the population, you’re about half a century behind in technological leaps, and it’s always cold and damp.”

“So what?”

Chey realized from the start he was beaten. In all his experience, he’d never really found a solid counter-argument to “so what.”

“Never mind. Don’t know why I bothered.”

“What classes are you taking?” Hermione asked.

“Hang on a sec,” Chey said, digging in his pocket for the schedule, for he’d already forgotten. “Okay, there’s Transfiguration with Aunt ‘Em, Creatures, Defense, and Charms.”

“What?! Only four classes?”

“Ron, sixth and seventh years don’t have to take every class,” Hermoine explained, possibly for the third time. “But why only four, Chey?”

“Just because it’s only four doesn’t mean it’ll be a breeze,” Chey rationalized. “Just Aunt ‘Em’s class today was hard as nails.”

“What did you do?” Harry asked.

Chey sighed, remembering he was exhausted. “She wants me to merge three classrooms into a single dueling hall.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Hermoine said.

“It’s gotta be a single act of magic and I can’t use my wand.”

The three fourth years were stunned.

“Has she gone mental?” Ron posed rhetorically.

“In theory it’s possible,” Chey divulged. “Just a matter of implementing said theories in a way that’s practically possible. I have until the end of the month to figure it out.”

“Why the end of the month?” Harry asked, definitely not run out of questions yet.

“I solve the puzzle by then, and curfew no longer applies to me.”

“Well that’s something to work towards,” Ron commented.

“Yeah, and it’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow. I’m tired as hell, so I guess I’ll catch up with you guys in the morning.” He stood up, and Raithe and the falcon took off out the window. He was sure they would stick around for a bit.

“Yeah, all right.”

“Sure,” Hermoine called after him as he trudged up the stairs, his friends’ letters in his pocket. His responses would have to wait until tomorrow. Now he needed rest.

He entered the dormitory to find it empty save for one person. It was the same boy who stood silent the night before, and he was looking over a Charms book. The two of them acknowledged each other, then went about their own business.

“Did you really get expelled from all six of those schools?” the boy asked, breaking the silence.

“Technically only three,” Chey answered.

“How much of the article was true?”

“Every word.”

“Even your commendations?”

“Yep.”

“Then why would you sabotage that?”

It was a fair question to be sure. Of course, Chey had no answer to it. It did seem odd that every time he established a pattern of success, something happened to foul it up. It was a puzzling issue indeed.

Grabbing for any answer, Chey said, “I got bored,” and climbed into bed.