A very thin wire

by keepingiteasy

The Potter Luck acts as a catalyst, both good and bad. For instance, being unwittingly entered as a fourth competitor in a competition for three (bad) only to defeat a Dark Lord (good) and ending up enrolled in the greatest Institute of Magic there ever was (not quite sure about that one...). Potters always did like shattering expectations.

1. a beginning

Word Count: 2,873

Former Word Count: 1,862

…

What Might Be Called A Beginning

"Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it." -Hunter S. Thompson

...

[June 29, 1994: Day of the Final Triwizard Task]

Callisto Azalea Lilian Potter-Black had 'vanquished' the 'Dark Lord' Voldemort in a very dim graveyard during the Final Triwizard Task. Callisto hadn't even expected to win the tournament, but that frigid evening when Voldemort had forced her into a resurrection ritual, her magic had already decided for her what it planned to do. It might have been the first time her magic had taken charge, but it would not be the last. So when Peter Pettigrew chanted madly and the 'Dark Lord' took his first steps in a renewed body, they also quickly became his last.

'No,' the Girl-Who-Lived's magic seemed to whisper to her, buzzing hotly beneath her skin, 'I do not appreciate being forced to participate in a shoddy, poorly planned ritual,' the whisper became a snarl, magic whipping to the surface of her skin, bursting from her in a flare of orange that quickly burrowed into the 'Dark Lord,' before digging in, 'claws' pulling and ripping apart the other's soul and magic. 'Thank you very much,' echoed viciously in Callisto Azalea's mind as she cried out in pain.

Her magic had rather expressively rent apart the frail remnants of his soul and magic left in his deformed, snake-like body, concluded that just that was not nearly enough revenge and settled to burn through every object and person that had ever been polluted by the thick, oily mass that was his magic. It was not gentle, tearing through the little girl-who-lived to get to the target of its rage, hot, angry, living magic tearing through her and the 'Dark Lord' Voldemort, using their accidental connection in a way it never was intended to be used. Far below Gringotts, the Cup of Hufflepuff cracked and withered, the soul fragment letting out an obscene shriek, one echoed in four other places as Voldemort came to his end, dropping limply to the ground.

It wasn't just the 'Dark Lord,' though. Everyone his magic had ever tainted, everyone who bore a certain skull and snake on the left arm felt that withering power of Callisto Azalea's burning magic, and so, while the little girl that had lost so much slumped forward, collapsing from the excruciating pain that she had just been subject to, so too did each and every Death Eater bearing the mark of Lord Voldemort collapse, dead from the righteous anger of one girl's magic.

It left a certain fourth year unconscious, still tied hastily to a headstone in a circle of charred grass in a no-name graveyard in a shady town to be found hours later by harried Aurors who would be horrified at what they found. The body of Peter Pettigrew, eyes wide in terror and bearing only a bleeding right stump where a silver hand might have gone, a sallow scar of the Dark Mark on the left arm, ("Merlin's name… if his body is here… then how did Sirius Black kill him?"), the deformed corpse of Voldemort that Wormtail had not quite managed to robe, ("The Girl-Who-Lived has saved us again!") and the lifeless body of the seventh year Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory ("May Magic surround you, and happiness be with you. Bless you evermore."). It wasn't long before one of the Aurors rushed Callisto to Saint Mungo's, to be questioned once she woke, though, from the look of it, the magical exhaustion she faced would keep her unconscious for quite some time.

It was hours before that at Hogwarts, a polyjuiced Barty Crouch collapsed dead to the ground, a well-deserved consequence of bearing the Dark Mark, the price of which was now having the magic torn out of him, consequently unraveling the appearance of Alastor Moody. The same happened to a certain Lucius Malfoy, so certain of his position next to the Minister for Magic that when he collapsed dead on top of Minister Cornelius Fudge, the poor Minister screamed in terror and nearly had a heart attack right then and there.

The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones, seemingly the only functional witch present at Hogwarts, immediately sent Aurors to locate Callisto Potter, who had been a good friend of her dear niece Susan's since her very first year. Knowing Callisto, the answer to the question "What happened to the Death Eaters?" would be found with her.

Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was quickly growing furious, his earlier concern disappearing when Severus Snape, his 'trusted' spy, met his untimely end for seemingly no good reason, the only evidence contrary the pale white scar of a snake and skull that had only an hour earlier been darkening to black Headmaster Dumbledore quickly tried to stick his 'pointy, meddlesome nose' into Amelia Bones' business, resulting in shouted obscenities of the likes had never graced the Headmaster's ears before, bright hexes quickly following his hastily retreating form. And really, all the Headmaster had wanted to do was find out just where his little tool Callisto Potter had vanished to, and what exactly had she done to his lemon drops?!

Hidden beneath the stands in his grim animagus form, Sirius Black howled mournfully for his lost cub, quite possibly making those who saw him pale and fear for their imminent demise, while his close friend, a concerned werewolf who went by the name of Remus Lupin pushed his way through the now panicking crowd of students and visitors, moving towards the head of the DMLE to offer his assistance, after all, he had quite a bit of practice in Defense Against the Dark Arts, only briefly detouring to convince Padfoot that getting arrested (again) would not help Callisto's case.

The two eldest Weasley siblings, who had come to visit and watch the final act of the Triwizard Tournament, along with their twin brothers, worried over their adopted sister, anxious that she might pull safely out of this one again.

Callisto Azalea's best friend Luna Lovegood frowned, her usually serene expression creasing into one of concern over her very first friend's disappearance, as she clutched at the hands of Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott as they worried, hopeful that their lost friend would pop back up from this like she did all things, hale and smiling brighter than ever.

It was not long later that Aurors returned and conferred with Amelia Bones, who quickly announced the death of Cedric Diggory at the hands of a Death Eater and Callisto Potter's safe placement in Saint Mungo's Secure Ward for Important Persons, comatose, but safe. Through an unspoken agreement, Callisto Azalea's friends found themselves often huddled together in an unused classroom, waiting impatiently for the end of the school year so they could worry over her by her hospital bed as they often did.

…

[July 6, 1994: Office of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement]

Amelia Bones was seated comfortably in her new chair (a present from Sirius Black after she exonerated him of all fault in the death of Lily and James Potter), holding her head in her hands and bemoaning the sheer amount of paperwork that came with the apparent and hopefully the final defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and the subsequent death of all of his marked Death Eaters. The unmarked ones that weren't in prison (few as they were), had raged at the deaths of their friends and family and caused a great deal of destruction and havoc, so not only did she have more paperwork than desk space but her Aurors were also run thin on damage control.

The Daily Prophet had had a field day with the death of so many prominent members of society, the emptying of the majority of Azkaban, the death of Cedric Diggory, the trial of Sirius Black (and honestly, she could have done without that particular mutt sticking his filthy paws into the mess when he was pardoned), the Minister of Magic's complete and utter incompetence, and the hospitalization of the Girl-Who-Lived, Callisto Potter.

It was Potter-Black now, apparently.

Just as she finished the last bout of paperwork, her nervous assistant, a Ravenclaw graduate of Hogwarts named Janie, peered in through the door almost fearfully at her boss.

"Cornelius Fudge is outside, Madam Bones. You had a meeting with him?"

Amelia Bones sighed for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Fudge had better be bringing good news. It wasn't frequent that Fudge deigned to walk to her office, preferring to ask her to come to him, but apparently, even he was wary of Amelia's ire after so many hours at work.

"Send him in, Janie."

"Oh, Amelia!" Cornelius Fudge started nervously as he quickly sat, pulling his green bowler hat off of his head to fiddle with the brim nervously. "How has the investigation into Y-you-Know-Who's sudden reappearance and the… ha… terrible deaths of some of our most noble citizens gone so far?"

"Not well." Amelia replied succinctly, "We won't know anything for certain until Miss Potter wakes up, though the healers believe that she had an extremely powerful and violent bout of accidental magic after being tortured and apparently used in a resurrection ritual of some sort."

"Is there something I might be able to do as Minister to speed the investigation up?" Minister Fudge asked, sounding far too harried for not having done any work whatsoever. Maybe it was because half the newspapers were scapegoating him for all sorts of things, starting with Sirius Black's false imprisonment and not really ending.

"Not with this, Minister; however," Amelia's eyes narrowed as she paused, "it would be incredibly beneficial if you could find a way to possibly divert the attention of the public and of the press, as well as finally do something about our relations with the different groups of magical creatures."

"Oh, but Amelia! The creatures couldn't possibly be trusted, they're monsters-"

"Does it look like I care for your opinion, Cornelius?" Amelia shouted, the frustration over the past week spilling over, "There is a great chance of them being able to help with our investigations, and it would help the DMLE to have better relations with them! Magical beings are as much a part of our society as any witch or wizard, so figure something out!"

"Amelia! I am the Minister of Magic! It is my job to protect the populace-"

"No! You are just trying to lynch magical beings! It isn't helping! It is my job to protect our citizens, and yours to improve relations!" Amelia cried.

"Well then… how about this," Cornelius seemed to blurt the first feasible idea that came to his mind, "As soon as our dear Girl-Who-Lived recovers, hopefully in time for her next year at Hogwarts, we can create an exchange program!"

"Excuse me?" that definitely was not something Amelia had expected.

"We can send 20 of our dear Hogwarts students-five from each house, of course-to that one school. What is it, Tair? Air? All-air?"

"Altair." Amelia supplied automatically, bewildered over how the completely incompetent Minister could have come up with a halfway decent idea.

"Yes, yes! Altair! We can send 20 students there with the objective of ingratiating the magical creatures to Britain-they couldn't possibly risk them corrupting Hogwarts, that would be deplorable-and with the Girl-Who-Lived there, they will be protected from the bloodthirsty creatures!"

"Minister please-"

"No! Oh, this is flawless! The press will be delighted to know that I am attempting to improve relations and oh! The magical creatures will obviously feel indebted to me as I have graced them with the presence of the Girl-Who-Lived! Ha!" Fudge stood rapidly, chair tipping precariously backward as he bustled out of the room, hat clutched tightly in both hands. "I must consult Albus Dumbledore! He will love this! This will be perfect! Perfectly safe for our citizens… have to select students… haha!"

…

[July 10, 1994: Office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry]

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore glanced briefly at one of the many spinning clocks sprawled haphazardly between other spinning mechanisms before turning towards Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, who was sitting across from him in a mismatched plush red chair. One of the silver instruments let out a cheerful whistle as the dozens of odd instruments whirred and buzzed, their long limbs spinning rapidly, slowing abruptly, and twirling just because.

"It is 5:52, Cornelius," Albus Dumbledore began jovially, all of his intentions being to relax the incredibly tense Minister, who was holding his hat tight enough to permanently indent it, "and I am sure that the Altair Institute representatives will be arriving soon enough. They will agree with our proposition, especially when we reveal that dear Callisto will be joining them."

(Callisto had woken briefly the previous day, just barely long enough to answer the quick questions of an on-duty Auror before falling back into an exhausted sleep. The Healers had made sure that she was healing properly before ushering the confused Auror from the room. She hadn't gotten the answers she wanted, hadn't gotten the answers her boss Amelia Bones wanted, and certainly not the answers the press wanted, but they were answers and that was enough for now.)

Minister Fudge nodded happily, attempting and failing to conceal his nerves. His token green bowler hat was tucked firmly in his lap, and his fingers fiddled anxiously with the brim. "Certainly, certainly! They would be fools not to, Albus! We are being incredibly generous in offering such a marvelous chance for these magical creatures to enter our good graces!"

"Yes, yes," the Hogwarts headmaster agreed, "there is no doubt that they will agree, rest assured, Cornelius. After all, we in Magical Britain are very powerful and important allies that they could have." His eyes flicked to a cobalt instrument that started spinning rapidly as he nodded seriously. "They are here!" he declared, leaning back, his blinding robes rustling as he did his best to appear relaxed.

The opulent fireplace that had never been used for anything but the floo flared a dark green once, welcoming a graceful figure and only moments later another. The first was obviously female, though it was incredibly clear from the start that she was not at all human. Her wavy, dark-blue hair fell behind pointed ears and down her back in stark contrast to her almost unnaturally bronze skin. Her eyes were an ethereal blue-grey that seemed to swirl murkily with silver clouds as her eyes assessed her surroundings, while her confident smile displayed a set of far too pointed teeth and slightly elongated canines.

She was wearing a dark purple cloak with silver accents curling around the hems, slit widely in the middle over her light gray shirt and simple black pants. A single pendant laid above the shirt, a small silver ball that glowed slightly and seemed to hum rather ominously, the same as the bands of silver that wound around her gloved arms. While she had no visible wand, there was a knife tucked into a sheath on her thigh, and a leather band that held throwing darts across her chest.

Most of her clothing was hidden under the regal cloak, and as she turned to her companion and slipped her arm through his with an amused smile, it revealed the insignia threaded into the back. The cloak was meant to emulate the banner of Altair, a seal that every alumnus and student of Altair bore somewhere on their clothes proudly. The insignia on its own was rather simply a dark ashwinder, a cool blue, almost violet sheen to its scales as it posed coiled, head raised proudly and resting in a bed of red, pink, and gold snapdragons and gladiolus.

Her companion wore the same insignia, though it was embedded in a dark grey cloak that he wore over a crimson shirt and dark dragonhide pants. At his throat was a leather cord that carried a single pink crystal, that, like with the woman, glowed brilliantly. While he didn't appear to carry any weapons, his aura seemed far more pointed and volatile than that of the woman's. His tanned skin had the appearance of glowing golden with some inner light, though both humans believed it to be a trick of the light. His aged hair was a light silver that framed a strong face, with glorious golden eyes and blood-red lips that were pulled back to bear long, sharp fangs.

In a single word, they would be described as enchanting.

It might have been more accurate to say that their appearance was so unmistakably inhuman that their breathtaking looks and otherworldly aura were like a poison that smelled like the sweetest flower.

Surely, Albus Dumbledore worried as he stared in horrified silence, they would not be so foolish to leave a vampire and a fae in charge of a school? It was a recipe for disaster!

But they did. They definitely did.

And they had plenty of ulterior motives, and it just so happened that Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge were playing right into their waiting hands.

Oh yes, the vampire thought wickedly, fangs glinting in his entirely too gleeful grin, this will be an incredibly interesting year at Altair. Very interesting, indeed.

…

a/n:

Happy New Year, all!

This is a rewrite of my story "Altair Institute of Magic." AIM is not complete but will remain posted if you want to read it. If you've come from AIM, there are some name changes (not big, and usually understandable) so don't be surprised by a different person/name doing something.

I am rewriting AIM because I was dissatisfied with a lot of the way I wrote things. I do want to continue it and am planning on finishing this story but there were just things that-in my opinion-I needed to fix. As a reader, I know that this is frustrating because really we all just want to see the conflict and its resolution, but I'm doing what I believe will be best for me and this story.

I'm planning on updating every three weeks, so hopefully, there won't be, what, 5-month gaps between updates?

kie

edit 04/12/21 - minor formatting change