Chapter Text
In an office within the International Confederation of Mages Headquarters in Geneva, a woman idly toyed with a quill. Papers, parchments, and open books lay scattered across her desk, each turned to a specific page, yet all remained untouched. A faint frown marred her pale features, her free hand absently twirling a lock of dark auburn hair.
Her gaze was distant, unfocused, drawing attention instead to the striking mismatch of her eyes: one a lush, living green, the other molten gold. It felt ancient, unyielding.
She blinked once, then returned her attention to the papers before her, settling on a particular correspondence.
“Mstr. Theriotokos,
I acknowledge receipt of your request concerning a visitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While the Ministry remains committed to its support of the institution, I regret to inform you that approval for such matters falls solely within the discretion of the Headmaster or Headmistress, as stipulated by the Charter.
I remain, of course, at your disposal should you wish to pursue this alternative. Should it be agreeable to you, my office will contact the Headmaster of Hogwarts to determine a suitable date and time for such a meeting, to be held either on school grounds or at a Ministry-approved location.
I must also respectfully request that, should such a meeting be arranged, any demonstration of advanced or experimental magic be conducted only with prior authorization from the appropriate Department, in accordance with current Ministry guidelines. I trust you will appreciate the necessity of these precautions.
Please do not hesitate to inform my office of your preference at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely,
Cornelius Fudge
Minister for Magic”
She sighed, then penned her reply, her writing smooth and elegant.
“Minister,
I acknowledge your position and the limitations imposed upon your office. You need not trouble yourself further in this matter.
In my capacity as an agent of the International Convention of Mages, I shall proceed accordingly.
I thank you for your time.
Mistress Callista E. Theriotokos
Mistress of Magical Creature Health (MCH)
Lady of the Autokthon House of Theriotokos”
With a wandless charm, she dried the ink. She then folded the parchment with precise care, slipped it into an envelope, and sealed it with green and gold wax, the colours catching the light like her gaze.
Later that day, she appeared soundlessly at the Gates of Hogwarts. She was clad in a flowing black chiton, a golden belt girdling her hips. Her hair was gathered into a loose bun, a wand threaded through it as though pinning it in place.
With a subtle wandless charm, she summoned a soft chime from the gates, the sound reverberating gently.
A few minutes later, an old man came forward, grumbling as he approached.
“Who’re you?” he asked rudely, frowning as he studied her.
“Mistress Theriotokos. I am here for a surprise visit, as the ICM is known to conduct.”
“Don’t know about any visit.”
“That is why I used the term ‘surprise.’ It would hardly be one otherwise.”
“Well, sorry, lady, can’t let you come in. Only the Headmaster can.”
“Do not concern yourself. He will be here shortly.”
The man looked unconvinced and opened his mouth to dismiss her when a sudden whoosh of flames burst into existence nearby. When they cleared, another man stood before them. Where the first had greying hair, this one’s was an almost aggressive white. Taller, too.
“What seems to be the problem, Argus?” asked the newcomer.
“Lady claims she’s here for a surprise visitation, Headmaster.”
“Mistress Theriotokos. I am here for a surprise visit, as the ICM is known to conduct,” she repeated, her mismatched gaze meeting the clear blue eyes of the Headmaster.
“Well, I’m afraid I cannot accept that, my dear. Next time, do be sure to schedule it.” His eyes twinkled faintly as he attempted to slip into her mind.
“That will not be possible, Headmaster. This is a surprise visit. And if you refuse me entry… I may simply adopt a more efficient approach.”
With a faint smirk, she vanished from before the gates.
And reappeared beyond them.
“Wh- You can’t! You don’t have the right to come in! I am the Headmaster, and I reject you!”
“Ah, but you lack the authority to do so. Hogwarts, while independent from your Ministry, must still comply with ICM regulations.”
“I am the Supreme Mugwump of the ICM, and I forbid you entry into my school.”
“That, you may be. But you do not govern the day-to-day workings of the ICM. You preside over its assembly, nothing more. And while this has been a pleasant exchange, I have matters to attend to. Good day, Headmaster.”
Without waiting for a reply, she vanished once more.
She reappeared near a wooden hut, its windows covered with drapes. A wave of heat seeped through even before she knocked.
The door opened to reveal a large, bearded man, sweat beading on his brow.
“Who’re you?” he asked, frowning.
“Mistress Theriotokos, here for a surprise visit. May I come in? I sense a young dragon hatchling, and I must ensure her health.”
“Wh-Ho-What?”
“Thank you.”
Despite being half his size, Callista slipped past him effortlessly.
Inside, three students crowded around a table where a small dragon crooned softly.
“Oh, hello, lovely,” she murmured, voice softening. “Are you hungry? Yes… I thought so.”
From her belt, she withdrew a small leather pouch. When her hand entered it, it vanished far deeper than its size allowed. When she withdrew it, she held a feeding bottle filled with a muted pinkish-beige mixture, warmed by a faint golden undertone.
She seated herself and gathered the dragonling close, hissing softly. One of the students -the dark-haired one- seemed, inexplicably, to understand.
With a flicker of intent, she fitted the bottle with a reinforced yet supple teat and guided it to the hatchling’s jaws. It latched immediately, fangs closing with surprising precision as it fed eagerly.
“What’s in there?” asked the large man, curiosity overriding confusion.
“Warm milk, mixed with raw meat and brandy. A hatchling’s diet is precise—and demanding.”
“She?”
“Of course. Note the faint golden hue along her ridge. Females bear gold. Males, silver.”
“Oh… I called her Norbert…”
“You may adjust it to Norberta,” she said dryly. “Though I would suggest something more fitting.”
Her expression shifted slightly, tightening.
“I am afraid you cannot keep her.”
“No… Why? I always wanted a dragon…”
“Do not worry. I will provide you with a Portkey to the reserve where she will be raised. You may visit her weekly.”
“Really?” four voices echoed.
“Provided your guardians consent.” She amended, her gaze settling briefly on the three students, who wilted under it.
Silence followed.
When the bottle was empty, she returned the sleeping hatchling to his arms.
“Watch her carefully. I have other matters to attend to before her relocation.”
She vanished again.
Moments later, she stood before a forbidden corridor. Pushing the wooden door, she sighed softly.
Inside, a massive three-headed dog rose, chains rattling.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “What have they done to you…”
Without hesitation, she stepped forward and ran her hand along one massive snout, her touch carrying a soothing magic. The collars fell away.
From her pouch, she retrieved a container and produced large cuts of barely cooked meat, feeding each head in turn.
“Well, dearies… you will not remain here much longer.”
With a flicker of intent, she placed a golden token upon one head. The creature shimmered an instant, then vanished.
“Good,” she murmured. “Now… the troll. Then a stroll through the Forest. Then a dip in the Lake…”
Callista did not return to her office before the first light of dawn.
