Photo courtesy chira-chira
Has nine lives
Very powerful wizard, even if he doesn't show it
Great fashion sense
Adversely affected by silver
How we think the fight might go...
Hermione Granger, sitting at the front desk of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (filling in for the regular receptionist, as interns are often forced to do) looked up from her book in surprise when the man appeared out of nowhere. “May I help you?” she said coldly, still suspicious of strange magicians after the turmoil of the past few years.
“I am here to speak with the Minister,” he answered, his expression somewhat blank, his eyes a bit unfocused. His cuffs and collar were starched to perfection, his velvet jacket a thing of beauty, and his hair was smooth, black, and shinny. Hermione caught herself just as her hand reached up to smooth her own.
“Is he expecting you?”
“No,” he answered mildly.
“Then I’m afraid you will have to make an appointment, and come back then.” And she picked up her book again.
“Actually,” he said, “I’ll just go up myself.”
“No, you will not!”
“I’m afraid I must.”
“That is impossible. The minister is a very busy man!”
“Not impossible, and rather essential, actually,” he replied. “If you wish, you may let him know that Chrestomanci is here to see him, to discuss a few of the irregularities your world has been experiencing.” He looked around vaguely, not meeting her eyes.
This set Hermione’s teeth on edge. “I have no idea who you are, and I’m not authorized to let anyone through!” she snapped, growing increasingly annoyed. “Make your own appointment!”
“I’ll just go up myself, then.” And he began to walk toward the door that lead into the heart of the law enforcement offices.
Hermione grabbed her wand. “You will not!” she said. “Confundus!” Maybe walking into the wall would diminish his smug superiority.
But to her surprise, he simply kept walking. “Locomotor Mortis!” No effect, just another vague look, one of faint surprise. “Tarantallegra!” Was there a suggestion of skip to the insufferable
stranger’s stride? But it was not enough to slow him down. “Rictusempra!” She could have kicked herself. Tickling? What was she thinking?
Teeth set, she set her mind to the spells that she knew would hurt him more than any other--”Diffindo!” she cried with every fiber of her being. Her wand shot out a shower of sharp sparks, and the seams of his jacket split. “Lutulentum Vestimentum!” and specks of mud appeared on his snow-white shirt. At least his clothing was vulnerable, even if her spells weren’t reaching the man himself.
With a cold look, he turned his attention to her at last. “My dear,” said Chrestomanci, “That will be quite enough. You have gone too far.”
Hermione felt her next desperate spell fizzling out, as if a blanket had been wrapped around her wand. She watched in fascinated horror as the seams repaired themselves, and the clots of mud vanished.
“How did you do that?” she cried. “You have no wand, no spells, nothing!”
“Your education seems to have been neglected,” Chrestomanci smiled at her, his expression absent once again. The book on the desk in front of her wavered and changed. The title now read Unlocking the Magic Within: 11 Weeks to Wandless Wizardry.
Hermione gasped. She could hardly wait to read it. “But who are you?” she asked. “How could you stop me like that?”
A second book appeared beside the first -- Tales of the Nine- Lived Enchanters: The Role of Chrestomanci in Keeping Magic in Order Throughout the Worlds.
“Nine-Lived Enchanters? Worlds, plural?” Hermione began to leaf through the pages.
“There was nothing about this in Hogwarts, a History…”
Chrestomanci left her there, lost in her new books, as he went upstairs to have his little chat with the Minister.
Predicted winner: Christopher Chant
Christopher Chant is from Diana Wynne Jones' Chrestomanci Chronicles and Hermione Granger is from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series.