Hogwarts School - Elsewhere

By all accounts, Joey McCormick should be a wreck. A few short days before, he’d had an incredibly embarrassing encounter over lunch and was left with no time to process it. This was because that very afternoon, a Fwooper with a recently-expired license and Silencing Charm had escaped from a Cambridge home and wreaked havoc on the surrounding neighborhood. Originally, only Joey was assigned to handle it, because he was available and capable. He suspected it was also because he was still decent with a broom, unlike most of the department. Unfortunately, the Fwooper decided not to fly into the sky, as they hoped, but around the area instead. In the end, two more employees came to help corner the bright pink bird. They had to contact Accidental Magic Reversal to make the Muggles forget they’d seen the bird and realign their slightly-askew minds.

Needless to say, it was a disaster.

His desk was covered with paperwork. Beast Division, Invisibility Task Force, Muggle Liaison…everybody had something to say about it, especially to the magizoologist in charge of the mission. One little bird could cause so much damage.

Despite all of this, the office was a cheerful sight. John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s voices harmonized from a record player. Joey hummed to himself as he signed a small stack of forms. This was the dull part of the job, but all the drama was worth it for the exciting part: said Fwooper was now just down the hall! After the bird was captured, he swiftly deemed the owner unfit to continue owning the animal and confiscated it. (He had the power to do stuff like that now!) Normally, the greatest punishment would be a series of training sessions, a licensing exam, and monthly check-ups to ensure the charm was in place. But Joey had wondered what drove the bird to cause so much chaos. It seemed deeply unsatisfied and tried to escape when carried toward its house, but consented to being held away from it.

It turned out the Fwooper was ill from all the filth in the house. He wanted to express his disgust to the owner, but his coworkers encouraged (read: forced) him to take the bird instead. While they dealt with that, he got to nurse the bird back to health. Sure, he still had plenty of paperwork, but he checked on it every two hours and it was doing much better. It was too domesticated for release, but they could find it a better home soon.

Knocks interrupted his contentment. “Oh, yes, hello, come in! Just a moment.” He lifted the needle and the Beatles went quiet. (He missed them dearly, but Abbey Road was a damn good album.) “Now, what—oh! Poppy!”

Embarrassment flashed through him, but he maintained a smile. He hadn’t expected her to reappear so quickly, but he did invite her to stop by. But…that wasn’t what she was here for. She had a report. Of course, that made sense; he didn’t think he had anything from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad yet. But that meant her supervisor was still making her deliver them.

“Well, the desk is there. You can add it to the pile.” He motioned toward the top paper on a stack to the left, an explanation of a Muggle-Worthy Excuse and how it was executed. “Supervisor still hasn’t taken up airplane delivery, then?” He shook his head. “That’s bloody annoying, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to do that.”

Was he supposed to apologize for…everything he’d accidentally made her deal with by inviting her to sit with him? Maybe. But reliving that sounded awful. Perhaps he’d just wait and see if she mentioned it, then. Yes, that sounded wise.

“Of course that’s okay!” Joey beamed. The fact that she thought that, even though they didn’t talk the most often, was so sweet. “Did you know I’m technically the big brother of my family? Only by three minutes, but still. I’ve got four younger siblings, I can certainly take on a few more.” Between her and Lydia, he really had.

Joey took a few bites of his sandwich as she spoke. He nodded along, charmed by Cordie’s affection for this unknown girl. It was weird to think about, but…it had been a while since he’d wanted to impress a crush so badly. He was ridiculously in love with Atlas, but he had long since learned that impressing him required no extra effort. Once, that hope for something requited, so tense it both sickened and delighted him, had dominated his life. It had been something like five years since. Unbelievable. There were times in life for everything, he supposed. It was kinda nice to see that what went around came around.

“Oh, yes! I was just promoted not long ago. I’m a full Magizoologist now! I’ve got my own office and everything.” He grinned with delight. No more sharing a room with all the trainees! It was glorious. “I specialize in field research. I’m hoping to expand our knowledge on the coexistence of magical and nonmagical creatures. My mentor helped organize a trip for the end of my training where we went to North America to see how jarveys and jackalopes interact with their nonmagical counterparts, and it was so intriguing. We observed that jarveys have noticeably different language based on location. In populated areas, you know they curse like mad, and that’s where they usually live. But there are some out in forests who have barely interacted with people, and their language is closer to the wild ferrets they interact with. Just a few words associated with hunters and hikers, sometimes just sounds. They’re not like that naturally, it really is their environment. It’s fascinating.” Joey’s grin was wide with the excitement of talking about this to someone outside his department. “And they’re perfectly natural with other ferrets. Jackalopes are with other rabbits. It’s no wonder, since their anatomies are so similar. But that’s true of wizards and Muggles too, and some purebloods can’t even get along with Muggleborn wizards. Why, if creatures get along so well? Do some not? I’m really looking forward to investigating with different ones.”

Joey took a deep breath and drank some lemonade. He really believed in this idea. It was something hardly anyone had bothered to study, and it could be beneficial to know if an injured and isolated magical creature could be socialized with more common creatures to help it recover. Not only that, but like he said, perhaps it could prompt an argument about interactions among wizards. If magical animals didn’t have disdain for nonmagical ones, what on earth was the logic behind people doing it?

But Cordie hadn’t just asked about his job. This was a topic he had equal enthusiasm for. “The place is lovely! That’s the tough part of field research. It’s so interesting, but it’s awful being away from Atlas and the house. It’s this beautiful cottage out in middle of nowhere England, kind of Tudor style, lots of open green space. His mum got me into gardening with nonmagical plants, so it’s beautiful right now. Even has a few magical herbs and things mixed in.” For the sake of having and observing them more than using them. He could make potions with some, though, and on occasion he did. He still liked to entertain the academic interests he hadn’t made into a career. “I’m not sure about animals. Maybe if I come across a magical pet who needs a home ‘cause their owner can’t control them? I do tests and licenses sometimes, usually with crups and kneazles. But occasionally there’s more interesting things. Once I had to wrangle a crup and he escaped and ran wild around the Ministry atrium!” He laughed at the memory. “But phoenixes aren’t pets, and they’re hardly ever companions. They prefer the mountainous wilds, and only occasionally choose to accompany accomplished wizards who prove themselves worthy and in need of their companionship. They refuse to be less than an equal. If you remember that and end up in a situation where it’s possible…” He shrugged and smiled. “You never know, right?”

“It’s good!” He held up the sandwich and took a big bite. “And hey, don’t worry about it. You’ve got a lot going on, it seems. Everybody does these days. But it’s more interesting than doing nothing!”

Joey hugged Cordelia back, grinning as her hair shifted shades before his eyes. It was so neat that she could do that, although he wasn’t sure she did it consciously. Could she? That would be awesome. But he had to focus quickly, because it seemed there was room for only one of them to get sidetracked. Before he could get some food of his own, or even explain why he was late, Cordie was off and running. He settled into his seat and just listened while she rambled, eyes widening with each new topic. Bloody hell, what a set of events! It seemed like everything was always happening while people were at Hogwarts. Drama of all kinds, beyond petty teenage spats. He wondered why that was.

“Wow, Cordie, you’ve been busy!” He couldn’t resist a light laugh at the sheer avalanche of words. It reminded him of his younger self. He supposed she’d always done that, even when they were in school. “Okay, okay. Let me get something, then we’ll unpack all of this, yeah? I’ve been running behind all day and I’ve hardly eaten anything.” He smiled sheepishly. He loved food, but he also loved his work, and occasionally one was sacrificed for the other. Fortunately, the place wasn’t busy, and he made it quick. In no time, he was back with a glass of lemonade and a turkey sandwich. (He didn’t like tuna, but he saw no need to say so.)

“Alright, we’ll start with you.” He took a few bites and settled back in. “Bloody hell, your grandfather sounds mental. A hit?! For an arranged marriage? What on…” He shook his head, bewildered. “I don’t get purebloods, Cordie. It’s your world, I know, but I’m awful at knowing what makes a good impression. Can’t an arranged marriage—or was it a marriage? Either way, thank Merlin you got out.” He had way more experience with purebloods than he’d ever expected to, and most of them made no sense. The Undergroves seemed to be the rare exception when compared with figures like the Roses and the Von Steins. Business dealings, formal balls….he’d attended several with Atlas and nobody had liked that, including both of them.

But his lips twitched up at the mention of a crush. “Look at you! Upending pureblood expectations! Just like me, isn’t that funny? Can you credit me as a bad influence?” He winked. He was pretty sure Cordie’s uptight grandfather wouldn’t like that she liked a girl any more than he liked her aunts’ relationship, and that made it all the funnier. Atlas’ immediate family was fine with their relationship, but his extended family didn’t love it, and the pureblood community around them didn’t either. Joey found it ridiculously amusing, because they couldn’t do shit about it. And here was Cordie doing the same! It was wonderful. He’d never expected to veer left of heterosexuality, but now that he thoroughly had, he delighted in meeting others who did.

“These balls and things are important to her, then? Hmmm. I never had to worry about that ‘cause Atlas hates them. We’re doing great, by the way, we’ve got a house out in the countryside now. Roo’s still there, and we might get more animals. Hopefully. I’m working on it.” Joey grinned. “I think I’ve heard the name Dankworth, but I don’t know much about them. I reckon you’ve just got to dress fancy and act polite, yeah? Tell her parents how lovely everything is, but don’t greet them for too long. Something like that.” He shrugged. “I guess your grandfather probably would know more specifics, but I don’t know…I wouldn’t like talking to him, if I were you.” After threatening to get her aunts killed? That was ridiculous! Hardly worth it, in Joey’s opinion. But this seemed important to his friend, so perhaps he ought to keep it to himself.

He sipped his lemonade thoughtfully. “If you have to talk to him, I guess make it more about the event than her. He wants you to represent the family or whatever, right? Just act like you’re doing that so he respects you and your aunts. I reckon he’ll like that, and he’ll be none the wiser.” Although Joey knew only scattered fragments about the man, and none of them good. He really couldn’t say. Why Cordie would think he was a pureblood expert, he didn’t know. But she wanted to seek him out, so he’d try his best.

Still brushing a bit of soot off his shirt, Joey stepped into Pot & Pantry. He was a little late—he’d been behind with starting his lunch break and then he Floo’d to Pop N’ Palmers and the employees were excited to greet him—but not egregiously so. He should still have plenty of time to eat and catch up.

Speaking of which, there she was!

“Cordie!” Joey waved and, smiling broadly, he made his way to the table she’d chosen. He’d missed her. They didn’t exchange letters quite as regularly as he did with some, perhaps because they hadn’t been at school together very long. But he quite liked her and was happy to hear from her. Recently, she’d sent a letter asking if he’d like to catch up over lunch sometime. Of course he agreed. He didn’t talk to people from Hogwarts nearly as much as he wanted. He’d been meaning to get back to it, and this was the perfect occasion.

“You’ve grown!” he exclaimed, as if it hadn’t been some time since he’d seen her. “Gosh, I can’t believe it’s been that long. How are you?! Have you already gotten something?” He’d only bought flowers here, not eaten—she suggested the place—but the menu looked okay.

“Insufferable? Is he already treating people badly?” Joey frowned. They weren’t…allowed to do that, were they? At least, not yet. The fact that not yet had to be said was sort of terrifying. “No, no, I wouldn’t. Couldn’t, anyway, I don’t know your department or who you are.” Whether she was even going to introduce herself now that Dylan had showed up was anyone’s guess. The man seemed to be anywhere and everywhere at inexplicable times. Joey didn’t know how he did it.

No, he didn’t think it mattered much either. Hell, they couldn’t even tell what someone’s blood purity was when they were working with them day-to-day. It didn’t make a difference. What mattered was what a person was like—if they were kind and caring, if they did good for society. The only thing some purebloods did good for was their own pockets.

These weren’t the sorts of bitter thoughts Joey liked to have. He’d never really had them until now. Being closely associated with an upstanding pureblood family whose latest generation was more progressive, Joey mostly just thought others were vapid and patronizing. He didn’t realize how much worse they could be.

“They all seem so sure,” the woman said, and he pressed his lips together, somewhere between a frown and a grimace. They did, yes. This election had given opinions which were beginning to fade new legitimacy. The old guard shouldn’t have been able to pull off a win like this still. He’d overestimated his country, that was for sure.

Looked like Dylan had too. At least there was that. Joey wasn’t sure what to make of everything else he said. He didn’t like the Ministry, apparently. Well, Joey had nothing to say to that, because he didn’t much like them either. But they had funding…at least for now. Rivera had seen that they were stretched thin. He doubted that Bellestorm would agree.

Oh, why did Dylan have to diverge from the topic? Joey looked down at the table, then offered the woman a weak smile. Yeah, that’s me. Apparently. Twenty years old and he was still bloody awful at taking compliments. Such things were familiar from Dylan Duckheart, but no longer frequent enough to be used to.

“He would’ve funded my department more.” His frown had returned. “Merlin knows we need it. I reckon this means more bookkeeping and fewer staff ahead.” He’d like to see how Bellestorm handled it if a creature found its way to Wizarding Britain and ravaged polite society. “That is, if they don’t start cutting everyone who’s not a pureblood. Then we won’t have a magical creatures department at all.”

Historically, Joey was not a political person. It wasn’t that he didn’t care; he just didn’t think about it. He didn’t fully understand its intricacies or his involvement in it, beyond the civic responsibility of voting. Although Joey liked people quite a bit, he liked animals even more, and it was those he tended to focus on. It was their complex social relationships and hierarchies that he knew a good deal on. People? Not so much.

Everything was different now.

With the announcement of the Minister election, he’d started to pay attention. In his lifetime, there had never been another Minister but Hir. This was revolutionary, potentially life-changing, just on its own. It was even more so with such radically different politicians. Truthfully, he would’ve been fine with Rivera or Bianchi. The latter turned out not to be an option, which was okay with him, since Rivera specifically mentioned more funding for the Magical Creatures department, and, well…didn’t seem like he hated everyone who wasn’t pureblood.

The election results had disappointed him, but soon enough, he realized they could mean much worse consequences than he thought. Almost immediately, at dinner with Atlas’ parents, Apollo had made comments (he had plenty to say) about how he reckoned Bellestorm would love to bring blood status badges back. He’d seen a lycanthrope rights protest on his way to work a few days ago. And more than anything, he heard talk. He saw a few more judgemental looks than he was used to, as if they could somehow see his blood.

Truthfully, his blood was polluted by far worse things than a lack of magic. Lying, cheating, betrayal, perhaps those reflected badly on him if anyone recognized the drama behind the name McCormick. There shouldn’t be such a big deal about Muggles in anyone’s ancestry. They could still do magic; who cared? But these were their beliefs, apparently, beliefs that were finally being validated.

So went the conversation at the table next to him. Through a combination of circumstances, Joey was spending his lunch break alone, and he’d ended up next to a lively conversation. Something about how Bellestorm would revolutionize the Ministry—hell, the whole country. He was going to protect them and their children. He was going to ensure wizards’ legacies or whatever. It was all drivel to him, and it grated on his ears. Damn his love for socializing, he should’ve just eaten in his office today. (He had his own office! That was still exciting.)

He glanced over at the table a few times, unsure if he should say something or move or what. It took a few minutes before someone else walked by, first past their table, then his. Joey flashed a smile and widened his eyes, as if to say, can you believe that? “Want to sit?”

If he had to listen to this alone one minute more, he was leaving.

Joey was positively beside himself.

Why on earth had he hardly bothered to visit museums? This was fantastic! It rendered every drawing he’d ever done inadequate, but he couldn’t care less. For him, art was a hobby, albeit a beloved one. For those displayed in the most well-known art museum in the world, art was more than life. Art was the universe—life, death, eternity. The passion that went into crafting these pieces could be seen in every single one of them. Fine details, magnificent layers, stunningly realistic sculptures and paintings with shades and perspectives that made his eyes rejoice.

He had to see everything!

“That’s hardly enough,” he responded distractedly as he flitted along to the next painting. “Who knows when we’ll be back? Exactly! I don’t know if I’ll get a chance to see this place again. I have to see all of it!” Obviously. Joey was never one to minimize experiences, because he knew how lucky he was to have every single one of them. He dwelled in moments long enough to hope they stayed preserved in his memory, then moved along to the next, hoping to fit in as many as he could. He wanted quality and quantity. People said you had to pick, but what did they know? Joey could have both if he tried hard enough. He was determined!

But apparently he didn’t have a choice: he had to try exclusively quality for a bit. Fine, fine, if Atlas insisted. He knew these sorts of places far better than Joey ever would. This was old hat for him.

And of course he was right. They didn’t have the same taste in art; Joey gravitated toward landscapes, impressionism, and anything that included animals or sketch-like elements, whereas Atlas’ tastes were far more discerning. He could be an art critic, Joey mused as Atlas described the painting. Or a historian. A museum curator? But that was beside the point. He was right! This had to be planned so specifically, because look at all of these people! Their different expressions, the way they fit together. There were so many stories in their body language, where they were located in the painting’s space, and how they looked at each other. And he couldn’t even count them all! It was astonishing that one painter dedicated so much time and passion to this one piece of art. To think he would’ve brushed past it because it didn’t fit his typical interests.

“Wow,” Joey breathed, genuinely amazed. He had reacted this way to practically every piece of art at the museum, but he really meant it! He embraced the place with childish whimsy, deeply appreciative of everything. “That’s wonderful. I don’t even have to know about the wedding to see all the stories on their faces. There’s so much happening.” Love? Betrayal? He couldn’t begin to speculate. He wondered if the artist had even known, or if it was up to everyone’s interpretation. “Have you? Looked at it for hours, I mean. You could probably name all of them if you took long enough. Try to figure out why they’re there, what they want, what their relationships are.”

It sounded like so much fun. But also, this entire place was awesome, and he had to see it quick if he wanted to make time for all the other awesome stuff they had planned. He really should be able to spend as much time as he wanted in every place that he wanted forever.

Kissing Atlas Undergrove never got old. Sure, it got familiar; by this point, he knew Atlas’ lips better than most anything in the world. They were warm and safe, comfortable and familiar, a home wherever they traveled to. But old? Never. It was impossible to tire of his presence: words, hands, lips, and all. He’d wanted to spend as much time with him as he could when they were kids, and that certainly hadn’t changed since.

They weren’t supposed to kiss in public, really. Needless to say, Joey wasn’t happy about the necessity of this “rule”. He generally found it agreeable to follow most rules, but he didn’t like this one bit. Nonetheless, the world wasn’t ready for them, and it wasn’t worth the headache. He’d probably have to keep the same thing up in the fall, lest it affect the possibility of continued employment at the biggest institution in Wizarding Britain. A younger Joey might’ve protested further against a rule that frustrated him, but growing up meant learning that sometimes inconveniences were necessary for the greater good.

That didn’t mean he had a word of protest to offer when Atlas broke the “rule” unsurprisingly early.

Joey’s laugh disappeared into his throat as he kissed back. This was always the best feeling, but something about the nature of this one—in public, far from home, under the romantic lights of the Eiffel Tower at night—made it even more heady and breathless. It was too easy to want to let go of inhibitions, bystanders be damned. Gladly, he lost himself in Atlas’ lips.

Only for them to be rudely taken away.

“Aww,” he pouted, a man deprived. “Rude. But I suppose you have a point.” He gazed up at the Eiffel Tower for a moment, then looked to his boyfriend. A devious smile curved the corners of his lips up, and he considered…but temptation was irresistible. He reached up, curved a hand around the back of Atlas’ neck, and pulled his lips down to his just briefly: hardly two or three seconds. Then Joey released him and sprang to his feet with a brilliant grin, as if he’d never done anything wrong in his life.

“You and your smart ideas,” he continued nonchalantly as he helped collect the remainders of their picnic into the basket. “I’ve got no choice but to listen.”

But if he snuck a few kisses on the way back? And quite a few more before they actually got ready for bed? Well, that was nobody’s business but their own.

“Oh, but we have to go to the stuffy restaurants,” Joey said even as his mouth practically watered at the delectable food. He helped Atlas set out the spread, then sat back and took a moment to marvel at it all. It was truly an impressive sight—more than he ever could’ve asked for or would’ve known how to order at a so-called ‘stuffy restaurant’ . “It’s part of the experience, right?”

Even as he said it, Joey made himself very comfortable on the blanket. He grabbed a box of fruit, took a bite, then smiled at Atlas with bits of strawberry between his teeth. Look, he never promised to be dignified. And this wasn’t those stuffy restaurants, now, was it? No one ever said he had to pretend.

Truly, that was the best part of their holiday so far. Sure, they still couldn’t be obvious in public, but some of the pressure was off when away from familiar environments. Here, Joey didn’t have to keep references to his home life subtle and encoded, just in case. France felt a little more open, and more consequence-free in general. They didn’t work or live here, and in that way, it was almost a little easier to just exist here. Until the rest of the world caught up with them, that was a gift.

With that in mind, Joey took his glass and lifted it toward Atlas’. “To us! And our latest adventure.” He clinked his glass against his boyfriend’s, then took a drink. He wasn’t usually one for alcohol, but he didn’t mind wine now and then, and this one was rather good. He was excited to see all of Europe’s different offerings in food and drink, and Atlas had already provided an excellent look at some of them.

He picked up a box of cheese, considered it, then looked back at his love. “We are supposed to toast before the meal, right? Or was it after?” He shrugged. The rules didn’t matter here, he supposed. “Either way, you’re right. This is lovely.” The picnic, the tower, the best person in the world…all of it made for a perfect scene as far as Joey was concerned. Paris—or at least Atlas’ take on it—gave him a wonderful first impression.