Summary: After Callisto Potter defeats Voldemort in the graveyard after the third task, Minister Fudge and Headmaster Dumbledore decide to create an exchange program with the Altair Institute of Magic, a school that caters to all types of magical beings, to "improve" relations with creatures. They just want the Girl-Who-Lived out of their hair. Like all things involving Callisto, everything goes sideways.
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Word Count:: 3,798
[September 10, 1994 :: Atrium, Altair Institute of Magic]
More than half of the Hogwarts students had decided that going to a party full of predatory, likely aggressive beings that no longer felt any obligation to be kind to them was a terrible idea. There was a little bit of thrill to it, Callisto thought as she looped her arm through Luna's and the two set off together. Blaise had decided to go too, and had been absconded with a half hour earlier by a human Altair student in the same Necromancy and Blood Magic classes as he was in. Callisto figured he'd be fine, what with his blase attitude towards being yanked out of sight. Terry and Justin had also left, though they said they would probably come back before 11, because, in Justin's words,"we don't want to be murdered until at least two weeks in." Hannah and Susan, despite looking somewhat eager to go, had both decided they should probably first learn how to interact with beings without offending them before attending a party. It left Luna and Callisto together, as often seemed to occur.
Luna had requested that Callisto wore whatever she picked out, so Luna had ended up in a rather cute pastel yellow dress that was cut off just above her knees, with plenty of ruffles, and a light pink coat on top. It would have been fine if not for the (very visible) bright blue knee length socks and patterned boots. She wore her signature cork necklace, but remarkably her earrings were perfectly normal, a crescent moon on one side and a star on the other. Despite the outfit, there was no way that Callisto was ever going to insult her fashion sense, because if anyone could pull such a thing off it was her. The only thing Callisto asked was if she'd be warm enough, to which Luna responded with a laugh and "Warming charms, flower!"
Callisto was somewhat surprised she'd been pulled into a long sleeve dress with only two colors (a weird pale green she didn't have the name for and a darker green skirt that was a few shades off of emerald), with the bright leggings and boots decorated with a flowering azalea being hidden almost completely underneath it, and a bag with flowers on it to match (Callisto liked the boots though, the dress too in fact. Maybe Luna knew what she was doing).
But still, she'd smiled brightly at Luna and looped their arms together, setting off towards the Atrium, passing Altair students dressed more fancy and looking far happier than she'd seen them before. Some glanced their way, and upon seeing Luna's outfit seemed to smile wider rather than sneer or frown in disgust. It made Callisto pull Luna closer, beaming down at her as they walked beneath little jars of bluebell flames (though maybe they should have been redbell, or orangebell, or any color because they flicked brilliantly in so many colors and floated in strings of brilliant light) that flickered and danced into and out of patterns above the hallways, the only light source other than the setting sun. The sky was still faintly pink, though it rapidly faded into the wide expanse of dark blue and stars. It was the first time Callisto had been out of the dorm past nine, and the vines that crawled up some of the pillars and walls bloomed with moonlace, a flower that bloomed only at night and that was typically owned by vampires as they were one of the few who could care for it. The flowers glowed faintly, not nearly bright enough to see by but certainly bright enough to be seen. Luna fluttered over to them, fingers brushing lightly over the petals with a delighted squeal.
She whirled around, the skirts of her yellow dress swirling in the air as she looked expectantly at Callisto. "They're not my flowers, Moonbeam," Callisto said genuinely, "and though they'd look wonderful on you, you should ask before you take, now come, we've got lots to see, Luna-lu."
With a pout and a longing glance back, the two girls moved on in the general direction that Callisto figured the Dueling Courtyard would be. It was the place where they'd taken their Physical classes, and supposedly where the Defensive Magic class would be held. The hallways in the dormitories never quite led where you expected them to, and always seemed to be placed in a winding pattern that snaked between as many rooms as it could before emptying out into either the Dueling Courtyard or the Atrium. The dorms were three stories tall, with the few flight-capable beings always being placed on the highest floor, and the staircases between the two floors appearing and disappearing as needed quite literally, as the floor would drop down into a floating staircase if you walked in the right spot.
Now, the staircases seemed to be stuck permanently, with people slipping down them and rushing up, humans, fae, daemons and what have you all trickling through the hallways to collect their friends or dress for the occasion. Compliments were handed out freely, and Callisto realized Altair had essentially developed a day to be kind and sweet and caring to any around you, when usually people simply ignored each other unless they needed something. It wasn't long before the two girls began to hear the ringing of a distant melody, sounding like a beautiful combination of flute and harp and guitar. If Callisto had never met an elf, she would have said that it sounded wonderfully elfin, like something taken out of Imladris or some other Elven city from Middle Earth.
The music, even if only faint, buzzed under her skin and bubbled delightedly in her chest, making her gasp painfully at the unfamiliar sensation. "Muse Magic," Luna whispered, "it feels wonderful, doesn't it?"
Callisto choked out a laugh that gradually became more full of wonder. She felt as if she might float away any minute. The light sound of strings being plucked and whispers of flute tingled its way from her fingertips to her toes. Exhaling slowly, Callisto grounded herself with the very presence of Luna next to her and the feel of the stones of the hallway beneath her boots. Luna pulled forward, dragging Callisto after her as she skipped eagerly down the hallway. As her ears finally began to pick up the song being sung, the hallway opened to the vast Dueling Courtyard.
Almost every platform was in use, with flares of brilliant light in every color imaginable illuminating the faces of enchanted spectators. The rings of people around the platforms was rather loose, ebbing and flowing here and there to avoid the movements of the duelists. There was no shield to stop spells from flying wide, something that Professor Warner had claimed was a good practice in vigilance, but despite the brilliance of the spells, the attention was drawn to the makeshift tents, stalls, and tables that were covered in wares and food that students were selling. It was similar to the markets held daily in the afternoon, but it seemed more as if every student who had something that could sell had found a spot to sell it.
The smell of warm food and spices filled the entire area, and as Aedifex had said, smoke curled from open fires. There seemed to be a bonfire on the ground every ten meters, fire safely contained but smoke floating slowly into the air and permeating the area with a heady smell of smoke and warmth and welcome. More than that were the colorful candles, of every imaginable scent that flickered at the edges and blended indistinguishably to just smell. The perfumes hung drowsily in the air, making it seem like Callisto walked from scent to scent until her head swam from the overexposure to stimuli. Through the fires fluttered fire sprites, whose bodies appeared in brilliant flurries of sparks and disappeared into black smoke moments later. They danced through and around the people walking past, laughs tinkling as they faded in and out of view. It may have taken a week, but Callisto finally realized that the sprites were rarely ever actually students, but rather were products of the heavy magic of Altair.
The music pulsed steadily in a rhythmic beat of a drum as the music picked up pace and the sun set fully. The throng of people, some far older than any actual student but not looking quite as if they could be professors, parted rapidly to make an empty lane between the two sides, where people entered to dance along to the music, twisting and turning swaying to the rapid beat of drums and tambourines that were seamlessly joined by every sort of instrument.
Luna drifted towards the stalls of goods, many of which were unattended with only prices and a bowl in which to throw money. There must have been wonderful examples of anti-thievery wards on many of the goods to allow them to leave their wares alone in a school where everyone seemed to be incredibly talented at getting around such a thing, or maybe it was simply honor. Dimly through the haze of overlapping chatter, Callisto heard someone call "Tarot! Hand-made decks here!" Luna immediately drifted towards it, smiling brightly at the human in charge. He had the same feeling that Angelica O. had, a sort of almost-fae echo that Callisto worried she might find in Luna if she looked for it.
"Hello, little moon," the man greets Luna. Callisto realized that this was probably one of the people Angie had introduced Luna to in the group of fae and 'Sighted' humans Luna was now so interested in. Callisto had asked why Luna wanted to know them, and Luna had only really said that they looked at her as Callisto did, as if she was a person who wasn't imagining anything, as if everything she said mattered, and that was more than a reason for Callisto to like them.
"Hello!" Luna said, fingers trailing over the table to find a card box. They were tarot cards, like the man had said, but they were decorated in brilliant colors, with wildly exaggerated figures and bright designs. They looked like they should be Luna's. The man's smile widened, and Callisto figured he had to be thinking much the same thing as she was, that these cards would be perfect for Luna, but still her hand retreated reluctantly and Luna turned back to Callisto. "Let's go see the Atrium" Luna whispered, glancing only hesitantly back but pulling Callisto along once again.
That was weird, Callisto thought bemusedly, though she stumbled after Luna as they were pulled deeper and deeper into the haze. If this was the sort of thing that happened every month, Callisto wondered what they did for larger student and alumni gatherings. Someone spun past them, laughing delightedly and jostling Callisto away from Luna. The young Ravenclaw was quickly enveloped by the throngs of students, many dressed just as brightly as she was. That Callisto and Luna both shared the misfortune of being distinctly on the short side did not help whatsoever as Callisto vainly stood on her toes to see slightly higher. With a sigh, she resolved to find her later. Luna knew her way around, and was honestly probably safer in the flytrap of muse magic and addictive power than Callisto herself was.
Drifting, Callisto moved from stall to stall, buying what caught her eye. Sirius had explained that she had access to a great deal of wealth, and had told her in no uncertain terms that she had better get some things of her own, or he would. With that in mind, Callisto took a number of different trinkets, one a little bronze mechanical bird that would sing shrilly if someone unwelcome entered a room, ("Not detected by most revealing spells," the Altair student had said, "completely portable, and it even detects vamps, who usually just fly under perimeter wards"), little baubles she thought Susan and Hannah would particularly like, three Grimoire-level warded notebooks, very interesting ink types, a Moonlace flower crown that would never wilt, and so much more. All of the warded things were expensive to the point that Callisto balked at buying them before remembering just where she was and who they could possibly be warded against.
All of it disappeared into her bag which, while it wasn't a Mokeskin pouch, was certainly magically expanded past its normal capabilities. Callisto wandered for maybe an hour before seeing someone she recognized. It was Verrick, who seemed to rush in to and out of the lives of the Hogwarts students, sometimes joining them when they were with their mentors and sometimes vanishing spectacularly. That wasn't mentioning that he'd been part of the group that had requested to meddle and experiment with her soul and magic, and who had said that he would be the only one to ever touch Callisto's blood. He was still a familiar face, and Callisto came out of the blur of mechanical actions, blank faces, slurred words and dizzying movements that she had fallen into with a few dazed blinks. Right, she was supposed to be heading towards the Atrium.
"Careful" a voice whispered in her ear, there briefly and gone the next moment. She turns towards where the Atrium should be, pushing her way through the people with single minded determination. There's a hand around her wrist, and then it's gone, "The warnings against dancing with fae exist for a reason," the voice murmurs, and Callisto's heart hammers in her chest against her will "it's a danse macabre, petal" and then it's gone, and Callisto is left bewildered, people still swarming past her and music still lilting joyously in the background.
…
Somehow, Justin had gotten alcohol. He had a cup of very dilute wine in one hand. He swirled it in his glass and looked for all the world like he knew what he was doing (maybe he had watched one too many films, Terry couldn't be sure).
"Honestly, mate," the muggleborn said at Terry's raised eyebrow, "I think that if I didn't start of my own volition, then Callisto would drive me to drinking regardless."
"S'that why you named a pair of hedgehogs Dee and Gee? To get ahead of the game?" Terry asked. The two of them had managed to get lost on the way to Opening Night, and were still wandering through oddly empty hallways. They were decorated differently, and Terry was sure the girls would have squeed and called it 'pretty,' but he wasn't a girl. Justin shared the sentiment, the whole time they'd been here (all of a week that it was) they'd been seemingly grouped together with Susan and Hannah as 'not an idiot, but not nearly as open as Luna and Callisto' by the Altair students. It was a fine place to be, but it still meant that the two boys were stuck constantly being compared to girls. (Callisto would have laughed and called it a "crippling blow to their masculinity," Terry knew, but he didn't want to think about how the other three would almost certainly burst into laughter after her.
Terry did have to admit that it was an impressive display of artistic skill though. Everything seemed to just… shimmer, with power and light and magic. It almost looked like this was what Altair was built for, midnight parties with so many patrons it was unbelievable. The patrons were unbelievable too. On normal days, almost every student was dressed casually, most often with either a cloak or dress shirt embroidered with the insignia of Altair, the brilliant ashwinder and cool flames, but tonight they were dressed far more elegantly. Females in dresses of all colors, some long and flowing midnight blue and some short and rose red and 'scandalous,' as Terry's dad would have said, hair done up tightly or flowing down to their lower back. There were no formal dress robes of the likes Terry had been stuffed into the past Yule Ball, and the males dressed just as varied as the females.
Some were adorned with distinctly cultural silks and furs, and some wore headdresses or necklaces of a great variety of colors. In their aimless wandering, they had seen more than one fae with skin painted in sharp patterns of triangles and straight lines beneath sheer clothing. The colors seemed to correspond with what type of fae they were, with water fae having designs in blues and greens and fire fae in gold and red. Daemons, they noticed, had a very similar routine, though their designs sworled in curls and swooped in wild, winding circles. Justin had gaped unattractively the first time one had crossed his path, and the daemon in question (a girl with violet eyes and dusty gray hair that seemed to be swallowed by shadows) winked playfully and twirled, gauzy purple dress flaring as she disappeared, and then it was Terry's turn to gape in awe. But still, this glorious display of art and personality paled in comparison to their first sight of the Atrium.
"Mother of Merlin that's magnificent." Justin whispered, both gaping unabashedly.
The triangular shades had disappeared, and in their place, rising on the pillars was a white dome, with wide gaps and curved white beams to make a net above the central courtyard. No wonder it was called an atrium, a word Terry previously thought was slightly misused. The white marble, the same as that of the pillars, curved into the air in a way that defied gravity to shadow the circular area beneath. The entire frame was covered in silver moonlace and vines, so many of them that it glistened brilliantly in the night sky. It looked to Terry like a little galaxy all of Altair's own, stars hung there by the might of the Headmaster, perhaps. Vines still curled up the pillars, though they were all painted gold, with flowers hidden within the natural pattern of criss-crossing vines.
The central circle that waited beneath the dome was clear of all but dancers, who flung themselves into and out of action, girls dancing around boys and boys dancing around girls. There were sprites present, as always, flurries of fire and water and wind that spun between the other dancers as if it was what they were made for. The only light provided was from flickering fires and bluebell flames, the bluebells drifting in the sky as they had in the hallways.
To one side, there was an open fire grill, with Brownies bouncing here and there cooking food openly for the students to choose from. A veritable buffet of foods was spread across three long tables, the wood groaning under the weight of meats and breads and greens of a wide variety of colors and shapes, looking like it had been picked at by a murder of crows but still nearly overflowing off of the table. Students slipped by, taking what they wanted and disappearing back into the crowd. Down the courtyard that led to the Dueling Platforms, people selling goods and random baubles were set up in stalls, candles or incense burning at each one. From here, at a gateway between hallway and Atrium, the smells were faint but still somehow intoxicating. The magic and spells that must have been woven into everything here was incredible, and Terry felt that he could just wither away there with a brilliant smile on his face. Toward the edges of the mass of people, there seemed to be lighthearted competitions on who could freeze water the quickest, who could make the most brilliant flash of light, who could breathe the hottest fire, or even who could teleport in the most ingenious way.
It was camaraderie in the most unlikely of ways. Brotherhood born from competition, from shared experience, both good and bad, and Terry wanted it. He wanted it terribly, he wanted to invent a spell, only for years later it was taught in one of the classes he was taking now. He wanted to work side by side with species so diverse that they ought to be fighting. It was a sort of foreign ache deep in his bones, and Terry knew with terrifying clarity how difficult it would be, after this first year, to re-enter the walls of Altair.
Even as his thoughts ran rampart, the beginning chords of a new song was heard, and suddenly the elfin music that had been playing was replaced with the pulse of a heavy drum, and the circle cleared of dancers. The drum throbbed steadily, buzzing through the ground to fill the area with its vibrations. The steady pound of boots on the ground joined the drumbeat in time, and the people seemed to still, encircling the area in wait, watching the circle eagerly. As the first new figure appeared from a newly formed gap, the low hum of some stringed instrument began, and a chill seemed to fill the air.
Terry shared a glance with Justin, eyes wide. Those had to be dwarves, beings that they had seen very little of during their first week there. Apparently more reclusive than most beings, or possibly just working through the day ("They're crazy" he recalls the Ravenclaws' demon mentor Lorcan I'vores saying, "the species as a whole seems to have some crazed obsession with working, day in, day out, slaving away and building who-knows-what. But they're fun little buggers when they want to be, they can drink almost every species under the table, and have voices like you wouldn't believe. They're a story-telling bunch of cave-dwellers. You sit down to have lunch with one and the next thing you know it's the witching hour and you've heard the story of three great-grandfathers and five uncles of varying closeness.")
The lone dwarf was quickly joined by others, until a group of fifteen or so stood facing outwards in a circle, each slamming the butt end of the shafts of staves, spears, and glaives against the ground in a steady beat. It reminded Terry faintly of Durmstrang's rather dramatic entrance, but on a much more threatening, glorious, scale. It quickly turned into a rugged dance, weapons spinning daringly, flashing in the firelight. Terry watched in awe as the fifteen dwarves maneuvered their way dangerously through the dance, swinging choreographed strikes at one another and ducking under past each other. It was mesmerizing in a way the dance hadn't been before, perhaps because now it carried the looming threat of danger. Eyes pinned on the dwarves, Terry didn't anticipate the loud crash of a gong, the sound sending him reeling back in shock and then humor as he laughed wildly and delightedly.
…
