This story revolves around an original character, so the Character 1 and Character 2 properties will not be entirely accurate for the story's entirety. Resultingly, the aforementioned properties will be adjusted to reflect the canon character most involved in the single most recent chapter for Character 1, and the latest five (5) chapters for Character 2. As the story progresses, these properties will be changed accordingly. I hope this clears up any confusion.

"Spirit of Fear" is rated Teen for language, alchohol reference, and all-around just-in-case.

--TermiteStudios

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 1

A History of Disorderly Conduct.

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"We take matters such as this very seriously."

"You're getting rid of me as punishment to a rule violation when you have no physical evidence that I committed the offending action? That's against the University's code!"

"You had the means, the motive, and the opportunity. In your words, that is enough to convict of..."

"I said that's a starting point! I never said you should kick people out on that basis alone!"

"The board's decision is final. You will surrender your-"

"Ah, you're a joke! I'm out of here!"

The sound of a long, thin piece of wood clattering to a cold stone floor rang through the hall, followed by a heavy door being closed so hard it stressed the integrity of the centuries-old hinges that held it to the wall.

It was a routine that had been played out three times before, all with the hopes that it would be different next year. Given the current streak, it was starting to look like things would never change. Chey would just have to keep looking.

Chey was no stranger to rejection. As a matter of fact, this was the fourth time he'd been expelled. Remarkable, especially considering this was his fourth year of education. Far more remarkable was that he had only surrendered his wand once.

As Chey left the grounds, twirling the wand he had just given the impression of surrendering, he looked back on the year at the Venice University of Magic, a school located on an island just off the coast of Italy. It wasn't bad. The classes were good and challenging, the Mediterranean weather was excellent, and the expressions on everyone's faces when they learned he spoke fluent Italian were priceless. It was like a MasterCard commercial.

As he passed the other students on his way out, they inquired as to his fate. He reassured them he went down fighting, that he never confessed, that their involvement would never be investigated, and that he would be sure to keep in touch. He also warned them never to speak of it again, lest they share his fate.

Chey was always good at taking the fall without anyone realizing it. It started at his second school. That one went so well that not even he realized he was taking the full brunt of the punishment. As a matter of fact, the only ones who knew were the real perpetrators. They had learned of his reputation from his first school, and figured they could accomplish the most devilish form of mischief, and pass the buck on to the new kid. It worked.

Chey reached the edge of the grounds and stopped. He had to, because this was an island and any continuation without proper equipment would get his feet wet, and these were new shoes. Luckily, his progress was not hindered long, for the ferry to the main shore soon arrived, with his greatest critic onboard.

"Chey William McGonnagal, you owe me an explanation!"

"Nice to see you too, Aunt Em," he replied while proceeding to load his belongings onto the ferry.

"Keep in mind the only reason you aren't being brought back to shore while tied by your ankle to the stern of the boat is that you managed to keep yourself away from trouble until after the final exams. You are by no means off the thin ice, young man!" she replied, as though she had been practicing in her head ever since she'd heard the news of his plight.

"Well, I was going to pull this off on Day 1, but the thought of upsetting you was just too terrible for me to risk it."

"And what about three days ago when you did pull it off?"

"Not so much anymore," he said with the casualness that only he could accomplish before the impending fury that was Minerva. Being her nephew helped.

"If your father could see you now..." she said with the disappointing tone that never worked on Chey.

"From what I hear about him, he'd get a kick out of it. And Mom would be very approving of the grades I achieved." All this was probably true. His father was a bit of a trouble maker; drove the family crazy. Always knew how to hold back, but still liked to push the envelope. At the same time, his mother was quite the accomplished scholar, and nothing gave her more joy as a child than proving her teachers were wrong. Very few have ever guessed correctly how the two of them got together.

But their union was what brought out such a unique case such as Chey. He seemed to have acquired their personality traits in just such a way that he was brilliant, mischievous, loved to argue, and still made the family regret ever approving of him. His parents would be so proud, and that's why Minerva's disapproving tone never worked on him, because he knew that as long as he followed his instincts and took his beliefs seriously, there was no way he could ever disappoint.

Unfortunately for him, Minerva was under the idea that his parent's approval never gave him license to disappoint her.

Soon, all his belongings were on the ferry, they were on their way to the mainland, and Chey's pet raven, Raithe, was squawking incessantly at sea birds.

"Have you considered what you'll be doing next year?" Minerva asked, hoping to catch Chey off guard. It had been a routine of their's, one of them saying something to catch the other in a moment of disorganization of thoughts. Yet again, however, this tactic failed to phase him, for he replied without missing a beat.

"Already taken care of, Em. Sent in the application to Durmstrang four days ago."

"And what about the letter of recommendation from an instructor of your most recent place of schooling that they require? Surely no one at Venice University will write one for you now."

"Had the instructor with the longest and most impressive record at Venice University jot one down the day I mailed in the application. Had Raithe send it, and it was on Karkaroff's desk in a day and a half. Raithe returned just yesterday." Again, Chey was ready to respond. Now that this was a focused conversation, there was no chance of Minerva forcing Chey to trip over his thoughts.

"Well, surely they're going to retract their statements now."

"No dice. Deadline passed yesterday. No changes to the application can be made past the deadline. My expulsion will not be factored into their decision, since the judgement was passed after the date of the deadline."

"What about your first three expulsions? Certainly they'll fill in the void." Minerva was reaching now. She already knew why his dismissal from the first three schools would not be considered.

"'Academic records in places of instruction located within the United States cease to be affected following the final exams.' Basically, anything I do after the final doesn't go on record. Also, I technically wasn't expelled, just barred from returning. There's a slight difference. All they said was 'We don't want you here anymore.'"

"Don't expect this run of good luck to last you your whole life, young man."

"Well, considering all the bad luck I had earlier in my life, I classify this as 'reciprocal luck.' In essence, my current run of good luck is balancing out my previous run of bad luck."

Upon reaching the shore, Minerva struck up an old argument that they have every time they see each other after extended periods.

"If you would just come to my school, I could give you a better chance of having an attendance record longer than one year."

"I'm not going to put you in a position where you would have a conflict of interests Minerva! Besides, England is hardly a place where my academic skills can be challenged."

"We can give you more difficult assignments."

"Which I would finish in the blink of an eye. Besides, there's no beaches to relax on, no mountains to snowboard down, and no flat desert that I can achieve sonic speeds on a broomstick over. No sell, Aunt Em. I like my relaxation time to be well spent."

Chey loved to argue. He got that from his mother, along with her brilliance. He couldn't help it. No matter where he went, he was top of the class. He also got his eyes and hair from her. His smooth, silver hair and eyes were strikingly like her's. Most of the rest of his appearance came from his father. He was tall, lank, with a medium build, and a rather lean, angular face, but a smooth jawline.

"Well you're not going to waste your summer vacation, Chey. I have a full run of things to keep you occupied-"

"No way, Minerva!"

"Why not?"

"Because I've already scheduled my own activities. I'll be assisting at the dragon reservation in Romania. I'm sure they'll have plenty for me to do."

"You can't be serious. Handling dragons at your age?"

"Guy over there named Charlie said I'm fully qualified. Class Echo Dragon Handler license clears me for all duties. Besides, this is a good way for me to find a place for Vipey to stay while I study in Europe. It's too much hassle to cross the Atlantic just to check up on him."

"Why you ever adopted that vipertooth, I'll never know."

It was true. Chey had applied for the highest possible license that someone can achieve to handle dragons in the United States. Shortly after he passed the test, he adopted a young vipertooth dragon, which he appropriately named Vipey. Chey's Class Echo license permitted him to care for multiple dragons on his own in any location. That made it possible for him to take Vipey with him to the different schools he attended in the United States. When he enrolled in Italy, he soon learned that his license was not valid in most nations outside North America, so he had to put Vipey up in a reservation in the Nevada desert, an arrangement that Vipey was not pleased with. From Italy to Nevada, it was quite a ways to check up on one very upset 25-foot long dragon with one hell of a bite force. Needless to say, a new solution was required, and Chey was poised to investigate.

"He was adorable in that cast-iron cage. And the Nevada weather makes him cranky. Now, if you don't mind, I need to send an order to have my motorcycle shipped to Romania, and have the local bank create an account linked to my bank back home."

"You must be Charlie."

"And you must be Chey." Charlie's hair was bright red enough to signal a space station, and freckles peppered his face almost to the point where they all could have become one single contiguous freckle. "The American Department of Sorcery recommended you very well."

"Nothing an impressive license qualification test couldn't handle." Chey decided that there would be plenty of time for pleasantries later, so he got right down to business. "So, did you get my request for a medium-sized isolation pen with flight room?"

"Yeah, I arranged it myself...but you didn't explain why you needed it."

"I got a vipertooth who's anxious to get out of the desert."

"Your's?" Chey's expression told Charlie all he needed to know. "Okay then, let's get you set up."

They proceeded to fit Chey with the proper equipment, and established an office for him. Soon after that, Chey sent instructions to have Vipey moved to Romania. When Chey had been established, the time for pleasantries had arrived.

"What was your last name again, Charlie?"

"Weasly. And that reminds me, your name's McGonnagal, right?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Any relation to Professor McGonnagal, who teaches at Hogwarts in England?"

"Yep. She's my aunt. You know her?"

"She was my Transfiguration teacher."

"Yeah she taught me plenty of stuff, too."

"Oh." There was a pause, then Charlie said "I pity you."

"Yeah, having her as a teacher can be Hell."

"So you lived in America, but she teaches in England?"

"She moved to England when she was accepted into Hogwarts. My dad chose to stay local. Guess he figured the girls were better in the States. That's how he met my mom, so I guess he was right."

"What do your parents do?" Charlie asked in earnest.

"Well, right now they're six feet under." That destroyed the mood immediately. Charlie picked up the expression of someone who'd just had half his internal organs removed. Chey decided that was not a healthy face for someone to have for an extended period, so he moved on. "Before they took that position, Dad was in charge of a quarter of the United States economy."

It was an unusual response for such a simple question, so it was understandable that Charlie's expression changed to one of perplexity.

"The McGonnagals are a very old, powerful family back in the States, both in wealth and in magic. They're masters at investing, managing, transfiguration, many are Animagi, and a few of us are illusionists."

"Illusionists?"

"A lost art. So, how about your folks?"

"Well, my older brother is treasure hunting for Gringotts, my four younger brothers and sister are in school, my father is in the Ministry of Magic and tinkering with Muggle things, and taming the whole lot, there's my mother."

Chey counted on his fingers, then said "Seven kids? That's a tough woman!"

"You'd definitely know it if you met her."

"What's your dad do exactly?"

"Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. If someone bewitches a wastebasket to throw up whatever's been put in it, he has to repair the damage and cite the offender."

"And the tinkering?"

"He made a flying car."

"Awesome."

"And he collects batteries."

"Interesting. Well, that should make it easy to buy him stuff, right?"