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Beyond Charms	By : Evania Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 7728 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-i.
- 2-ii.
- 1
- 2
This story is currently being revised and rewritten (and this note is apparently not allowed to have its own chapter). If you have not read it before, that won't much matter to you; if you have, I'm sorry for it's temporary disappearance, and my reasoning follows.

Firstly, though the story began prior to me even reading the books, and having only seen the first movie or so, I realized in re-reading it recently that there were a few too many similarities between Draenian Lyllith and Veela Fluer. Not a great many, but enough for me to wish to shift things about a bit.

Secondly, I have since read all of the books, as well as a few supplements, and know much more about Rowling's worldset. This will continue to be an AU, mostly because I like the names and differed personalities that I've been using, but it will reflect the Harry Potter world and books more heavily.

There was some stuff that I just didn't like how it was going, or wanted to change up, so that's going to be done.

To Look Forward to:
- Lyllith will no longer have French litter her regular speech when she first enters the school, though she will know a few choice words in the language. She will, however, have an odd, foreign accent foreshadowing her heritage.
- More hints at her heritage will peak through prior to the full reveal.
- Jarek will not be the only "famous" wizarding student in the school, and more details of this AU's wizarding war history will be revealed.
- Reasonings behind Draenian strengths and weaknesses in certain magic will be explained.
- and more!
Be well, and my hopes you read, or continue reading, once the revision is posted.

~ AbstractRainbow

In the Academy Mystica:

Year One- age 13; Year Two- 14; Year Three- age 15; Year Four- 16; Year Five- age 17; Year Six- 18; Year Seven- 19

House Alicorn- the optimistic, moral, companionable, and diligent. Those who’s actions are ruled by their ethics.

Totem- Unicorn Colors- Blue and Silver

((comparative to Hufflepuff, I suppose.))

House Featherfly- for the witty, the analyst, the careful, the level-headed; one who is governed by their thoughts.

Totem- Owl Colors- Brown and Gold

((comparative to Ravenclaw at most.))

House Lupinus- for the individual, the loyal, the daring, the spirited; one who is governed by their emotions.

Totem- Wolf Colors- Purple and Gold

((comparative to Gryffindor))

House Deachire- the audacious, the provocative, the driven, the realist; one who is governed by their ambitions. Any means to an end, you might say.

Totem- Cougar Colors- Red and Silver

((comparative to Slytherin))

A girl, nearly a young woman, stood looking out at the bustling train station, her expression set in a mixture of annoyed boredom. Silky black hair hung long and low past her shoulders, straight down to her mid back, seeming to have nary a strand out of place. Her complexion, while not pale, was a lighter shade with the odd undertone that might have shimmered, if one looked close enough. Her apparently dark eyes narrowed just slightly at the muggles that crowded this way and that.

“Master L'Fidèle, I beg you reconsider.” Her voice was smooth, the words carrying a slight accent that was neither British nor French; her tone not truly betraying the nerves he knew were humming through her slight body. He chuckled lowly, and those intense eyes moved slowly to him, annoyance overtaking the boredom in her expression. “This is madness.”

“It truly is not.” Unlike the girl, L'Fidèle’s voice bore a distinctly French accent, and his lips continued to curl in a smile. “I can take you no further, mon petit cher. You are in need of true Masters, oui, not some poor fool barely versed in Shadows enough for your grand-father to approve of.”

“Phegh!” A few sounds followed that flowed and nearly sang, the syllables meeting to form words that no Muggle nearby, at least, would understand. The man himself didn’t seem to entirely follow, but then, he had only ever been given the briefest of lessons in that language, in particular. “This as nothing to do with Grandfather.”

“True. However, the school is your next step, your next path. I insist, and this is no longer to be discussed.” His tone hardened, just a bit, and the boredom re-entered her expression. He knew well enough that the semblance of boredom and disinterest was her way of masking her emotions. Just as likely as her obvious displeasure with being sent off was that she was hurt by his insistence. “Have you everything for your potions, and your new Potions Master.”

“Mentor.” She idly corrected, but jerked her head in a stiff nod. “And the books and wand.” Her lips twisted oddly at that, and he smirked. Was she disappointed with that artifact? And which of the several possible reasons would be behind that? “Must I bring the… animal?”

“She can at least guard your possessions in the dormitory, non?” He smirked again, then gestured at the bustling crowd. “Off we go.”

She sighed heavily, dramatically, and stooped to pick up her more personal possessions, as well as the carrying case for the feline. He’d insisted on that, for whatever reason she refused to hear out, and the cat made an odd rowl noise as she strode through the London transit crowd. He followed behind her with that same smirk, pushing the trolly that bore her trunk and other possessions with him. By the time it had finally all gotten carted through the crowd, to the correct and hidden platform, and stowed in a rear car of the train, she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Lyllith…” He began, hoping beyond the knowledge that she was likely too upset with him to respond, that she’d at least look at him. “Mon cher…”

“I will see you at the Holidays.” She answered softly instead, nodding, and he sighed. He stood there, watching sadly, as the train was filled, and then finally as it began to putter away. He didn’t see her staring out of her window just as intently, watching as the gangly, gaunt little man disappeared into the distance.

More than once, during the day-long ride, a face poked its way into view in her compartment-door window, peering at her cautiously. She was too old to be a first-year, yet none of them knew her. She was grateful that none of the curious fools attempted to introduce themselves, though that might have had something to do with the locking hex she’d placed upon the knob for privacy. It was with private humiliation that she did have to walk with the timid first-years when they had finally arrived. She stood apart from all of them, taller than all but one or two, ignoring the curious whispers.

Lyllith was not entirely surprised that she was the only one who had bothered to handle some of her own luggage. The rest of them seemed to only be carrying their wands, uniforms and robes smartly arranged about them. Nevertheless, her carrying bag hung from one hand, its leather warm against her palm, tightly closed and locked against prying eyes. She had bothered to don her robe, though it wasn’t closed and she wore her normal, Muggle clothes beneath it instead of the uniform. Let them lecture on proper attire if they wished; she didn’t much care.

The Great Hall was, admittedly, astonishing. She hadn’t expected it to be quite so large, or nearly so impressive. This did not show on her expression, however, with a bored sigh, she merely quirked her eyebrow at the enormity of the place, and trailed smoothly after the gaping youngsters. She paid no attention to the warnings and instructions given, instead choosing to shift her new wand to the arm-holster she had strapped at her wrist, instead of the dingy box it had come in. So expensive it had seemed, for such shod packaging.

Finally, they were instructed into a single line by the stern-looking witch that had taken command of them, Lyllith trailing at the very end, and led into the dining hall. Equally as large as the Great Hall, if not larger, it was distinctly more impressive. Four tables, likely for the school houses, took up the majority of the space, students of varying ages crowding them and watching the first-years eagerly. A fifth table sat on a slightly raised platform at the head of the room, the line of adults behind it making it obvious that the staff dined there. There was a soft, warm light illuminating the hall, which seemed to come from the floating lights and flickering bits of flame that seemed to dance well above the gathered heads. Gaudily adorned tapestries billowed on the walls, and she noticed that some of the movements seemed to increase with the hushed whispers of the first-years taking note of them. Enchanted, obviously, with the pride of the houses they represented.

She paid little attention to the speech made, or the instructions given again, as the stern witch addressed the crowd, and then the new students. Instead she observed what would be her peers until she had managed to convince Master L'Fidèle to withdraw her from this damned place. When the first of the new students had been called to a single, lonely stool at the front, however, she let her eyes lazily drift over the procedure. Oddly enough, that stern witch threw what looked like an entire pouch of glittering sand or dust on the poor boy, ignoring the flinch he gave.

It settled into place, seemingly innocuous, and Lyllith held back a sneer. If this was some sort of hazing that even the instructors took part in, she would simply leave of her own power, never mind her old mentor’s insistence. Then, of course, the witch flicked her wand, and the glittering powder she had thrown rose into the air, clouding oddly around the still startled boy. It swirled and swayed, but remained around the obviously frightened first-year, not drifting away with the hint of a breeze she could occasionally feel pass through the drafty castle. Finally, however, the dust flashed brightly, and turned a particular color, even able to be seen at the rear of the hall. One of the tables erupted in cheers, and as the dusty powder settled again, color gone and not a hint of it on the boy, another name was called.

This occurred several more times, Lyllith watching skeptically as the spell was cast again and again. No new dust had to be thrown, luckily, though sometimes it would take moments at a time to settle into one particular color. Other times almost as soon as it had risen into the air it would flash brightly and label the poor student with a house. She thought it rather segregating.

“As some of you may have noticed, we have more than just the first years as new students this term.” The stern which announced, and Lyllith began to walk up the length of the hall without the needs for a summons. “Student Lyllith Reese comes to us from a private mentor, and alumni of Academy Mystica. Though her class arrangement will reflect this training as an apprentice, and we ask you not to pester her in regards to lessons, she is to be classified as a fourth year.”

Lyllith drew to a stop next to the woman, ignoring the stares and whispers of the entire crowd of students, and silently took her seat at the stool when bade. Another flick of the wand, and the cloud of shimmering dust rose again. She was a little surprised that it seemed to obscure her view of the hall, and muffled the sound of the murmuring students. She ignored the pull and twist of the shimmering powder, and pretended not to hear the occasional hiss of a query or statement from its cloudy depths. When it finally seemed as if it had been longer than the other decisions made, she sighed, and folded one leg over the other, drawing her carrying bag into her lap, ignoring the flash of light and watching in annoyance as two colors flickered rapidly through the shimmering dust for several moments.

At long last, when she’d almost been ready to growl out at the odd enchantment or charm, whichever it was that had bewitched the powder, it seemed to settle on one particular color, though it almost seemed reluctant from her point of view within. It took another long moment, as if the powder was hesitating to accept its own decision, before it finally fell to the ground so rapidly she thought the stuff might be disgusted with itself. Reluctant cheers and clapping was sounding out from the students, and the witch was looking at her strangely. Ignoring it all, she simply slid smoothly from her seat on the stool, striding silently toward an empty seat at the table the dratted powder had indicated. Deachire.

TBC

The first revised chapter. Opinions?
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Beyond Charms