"Hermione!" Master Kallas' clear tones rang out in the distance drawing Hermione up and out of the cloudy depths of her mind.
It took a moment for her to understand that the voice was laced with an unfamiliar urgency, and her parchments toppled to one side along with two or three books as she started - body jumping in several directions at once as she attempted to rise from the sofa. Merlin's balls…!
"I'm here!" she called quickly, already scrambling to pick up her materials. Just when I was finding a flow…
A moment later, Master Kallas glided into the Library, waving a hand to ignite the sconces on the wall. Belatedly, Hermione realized that the afternoon sun had shifted, throwing more of the room into shadow.
"There you are darling," Master Kallas alighted on a cushioned chair, waiting as Hermione stacked her books and shifted a few things so that she wouldn't lose her train of thought. "I apologize for disturbing you."
Hermione tried to smile, though she knew in her frustration it came out as more of a grimace. Pulling a hand through her hair, she took a deep breath.
"It's fine. Did you need something, Master?" she asked, noting that the elder witch seemed unusually tense.
"I wanted to inform you that we will be having a guest for dinner. I thought to keep it a surprise, but I know you don't necessarily enjoy those." Hermione felt her heart sink slightly at the prospect of losing precious hours of study time, but she nodded, taking in her master's strange posture and the way she kept furling and unfurling her robes as dark fingers kept bunching the robes above her knees.
"Someone I should know?" she asked, trying to phrase it lighter than she felt. Ohh, but there's so much to do!
"I should hope you know Minerva well seeing as she was your Head of House for six years," Master Kallas replied, her lips curving into a tentative smile.
For a moment, Hermione merely nodded her agreement before her brain connected the name to the witch in question. A moment later she felt her heart lift at the prospect of seeing her mentor - Oh, but there are so many things to tell her!
… And then it abruptly dropped as Hermione realized that it would mean having to talk about Harry and Ron, reminiscing about Hogwarts, and likely her theses… which are unfinished and likely terrible! Oh Merlin...
"Speak, darling. If it is too much for you right now, I understand," Master Kallas reached out and placed a warm hand on Hermione's knee, her light eyes full of concern.
Hermione deflated slightly.
"No, no… I would love to see her. I can't not see her! I would feel terrible! I'm just… a little stressed about everything else, that's all…" she replied after a moment. Master Kallas' concern softened slightly and she nodded.
"Very well… though should you begin to feel uncomfortable at any point of the evening, I will take care of things accordingly. All right, darling?" Master Kallas' fingers wrapped around her wrist and Hermione felt her eyes grow moist at the witch's fervent reassurance.
"Thank you, Master." She gently squeezed the hand back, feeling a rush of comfort and appreciation flood through their shared bond as Master Kallas smiled in return. Together they felt warm and… strong.
A moment later, Master Kallas stood, passing a hand over Hermione's hair and trailing it along her cheek. She leaned into the gentle touch.
"All right… I will handle dinner preparations, I do not wish to take you from your studies more than necessary. If I may add one request to the evening, I hope you will take it under consideration?"
Clear eyes looked down at her in question.
"Of course, Master…" Anything.
"I know Minerva is too much of a traditionalist to ask directly, but I request that you withhold a bit of information about your studies. Namely how close you are to submitting your theses and the manner in which we have condensed your schedule. It is not sensitive information… I just simply wish that your curricula remain bit of a... surprise." Master Kallas smiled mischievously and Hermione felt the distinct impression that her master's relationship with Minerva was far more complicated than she had let on.
Though actually, the request alleviated a lot of Hermione's anxiety and she quickly nodded her acquiescence with a bit of relief. It's not that she wasn't proud of herself nor the amount of information she had absorbed during her time on Naxos, it was just…
The next time you met Minerva again, you had hoped to be more of an equal.
Master Kallas bid her to return to her studies and Hermione scooted back into place, thinking hard, her previous train of thought long forgotten.
It was a stupid idea really. They would be seeing each other at the Quorum, and even if world events hadn't shifted her entire learning curve, Hermione guessed that there were still plenty of conferences and professional venues in which they would have had to interact regardless.
But somehow, at the back of her mind, Hermione had imagined revisiting her mentor only after her third classifications. After the bulk of her fundamental knowledge had been attained, when she was beginning the prime years of her own research and personal development... and when they could speak as colleagues rather than the fallback roles of 'professor' and 'former student.'
Not to mention when you are a bit older and more mature in the ways that… er, matter.
In that one conversation she and Minerva had shared during the summer after the War, Hermione had received a small glimpse of the witch behind the mask, and Merlin - she had been enticing. Hermione wanted to know more about her. Not the Professor or Headmistress… or even the respected Transfiguration Mistress… just Minerva.
Somehow, Hermione imagined it that it was going to be a long journey toward uncovering that side of the witch.
Hell, you're probably going to still have to call her Professor McGonagall tonight, she thought with a flash of disappointment, flipping open a book in frustration.
Did Hermione want to see Professor McGonagall/Minerva?
Yes. Absolutely.
She just wished she had been given a bit more time.
"- would please turn your attention to Figure 86 C in the informational packet, you will see that a large percentage of the cost of materials has graciously been absorbed by private donors. However, the Economic Council recommends -"
Minerva shifted slightly, her mind wandering from yet another nitpicky discussion concerning the ICW's budget toward supporting the relief efforts. Reconstruction was already well underway in The United States, Australia, and Russia, though the Auror investigations were projected to be ongoing for another few weeks. The Sagrada Familia had come under a wave of sociopolitical upheaval - sparking a disagreement between Spain and France over perceived slights against their national sovereignty.
However, Río was proving to be the biggest headache. Despite the small scale of the actual event at the statue of Christ the Redeemer, the Prime Minister of Brazil was refusing to absorb the cost of the ISOS violation - namely the relief efforts underway to minimize the impact on the local Muggle population, no doubt owing to the country's recent economic instability. They had been talking in circles for the last forty minutes and Minerva's patience was beginning to wane.
A glance around the chambers indicated that others were of similar mindset. The majority of faces were drawn in irritation and impatience, and there were a number of whispered side conversations happening as the Head Mage of the Economic Council continued droning on about numbers. Minerva's attention perked up however, as her enhanced hearing caught the threads of a whispered conversation happening several desks to her right.
"- shame about the basilica. It was one of my favorite collaborations."
"Hmph. Collaboration. The Muggles are too simple minded to recognize that their supposed national monument is a testament to Wizarding ingenuity," a gruff voice answered.
"Each to his own. The research was fascinating. My good friend was apprenticing beneath the Head Architect. Shame about the loss there…" The first wizard was shaking his head, though Minerva couldn't see past the one to his left.
"You don't think it's strange?" A third voice lightly from the farthest right. Minerva inhaled deeply, covering her observation with a subtle stretch. The delegate from Lithuania.
"How do you mean?"
"I mean… it's already been whispered that the lead Architect on the Muggle side appeared to have been Oblivated when Aurors questioned him. And not well from the looks of it…"
There was a bit of brief muttering and Minerva pursed her lips in irritation.
"- surely not?"
"- array of ideas. Theodotus was well known for his work into ancient architecture. He studied the Necromanteion at Kyryptos for a number of years prior to his work on the basilica."
There was a brief bit of blustering as the first two wizards attempted to shush the third. Minerva fought not to roll her eyes. There are far more concerning matters afoot than the continued practice of Necromancy.
Their conversation shifted into talk of Atlantis and the places they had visited during the recess, avoiding further mention of the westernmost peak of the island and its controversial community-in-residence. Minerva briefly returned her attention to the front of the room, settling back when she realized they were still working out the details of the aid package for Brazil.
A part of her bristled that the three wizards hadn't thought to be more discreet.
Privacy charms and jinxes were prohibited by the chamber wards, (Minerva could imagine a dozen different methods for circumventing those limitations), but a moment later she frowned at realizing the first two men were delegates from Belarus.
They would have little interest in the politics of Spain or France…
The third wizard from Lithuania - the one with the more interesting information was a man she didn't recognize. Another surreptitious glance indicated that he only wore the pins for the General Assembly and his country of origin. Minerva's eyes narrowed. His was exactly the sort of careless behavior that would get someone killed.
Still… the news he had related was indeed disturbing. It seemed implied that Theodotus had been a close friend of the Lithuanian wizard - Minerva recognized the name from the list of casualties at the Sagrada Familia as having been that of Head Architect, Theodotus Ambrozaitys His death during the collapse of the basilica's spires had been a heavy loss for the Architectural Guild, which had been slowly growing smaller over the years.
But Minerva was more concerned with the offhanded comment about Necromanteion. And then there was the suspicious nature of the thwarted transfiguration in Río…
There were abstract clues floating around those two events in particular that gave Minerva pause. Severus had already relayed his concerns about the event in St. Petersburg, though she'd had less of an intuitive spark there. That had been a quick and dirty job. Same with the events in San Francisco and Sydney. Those had been for shock value, she was sure of it.
But Río almost appeared like a mistake - why transform the statue into a demonic creature and then change it back, only to remove a part of it? It looked like an interruption or aberration…
Though perhaps that is exactly what it was…
That strange event plus the complicated threads of the Sagrada Familia's collapse were weaving themselves together into a gossamer signature whose wisps of intention she was only just beginning to see. Without the reports, Minerva felt like she was putting together a three-dimensional puzzle whose final picture remained a mystery… while doing so in the dark.
To say she was frustrated was an understatement. If only I had access to those investigation reports...
Filius shifted next to her and Minerva's eyes abruptly shifted, leaving her thoughts for the moment and quickly absorbing in her friend's sweeping script as he wrote down several notes in a Runic series she didn't recognize. It looked like he was writing an Arithmantic set of equations, but without the base of familiar symbols, she couldn't be sure.
What are you up to, my friend?
"I move to call!"
Minerva sighed and both she and Filius straightened slightly, their respective thought patterns suspended as once again, the chambers broke out into a chorus of dissonant voices. She glanced up at the tempus. 17:23.
Only a few more hours… she thought hopefully.
Eleftheria Kefalas reclined back and sipped on a generous glass of Agiorgitiko, nimble fingers spreading over the newspaper before her, careful to smooth the light pages so they wouldn't wrinkle. Her sharp eyes read a smaller article near the bottom of the page quite slowly, taking note of the significant names and dates that were as familiar to her as the photograph at the top.
Her heart constricted painfully as the bright eyes of her friend winked up at her rakishly, his tanned, wizened features still betraying a glimpse of the rugged youth that had so brazenly pursued her once, a long time ago.
Oh, Theodotus, my friend… you will be missed.
Thinking carefully for a long moment, Eleftheria set her glass down smoothly. For a brief moment she watched as the firelight glinted off several of her gold rings. How many of these did we earn together, Theo?
After a moment, she pressed the newspaper away and drew a blank sheet of parchment forward. Working carefully, she sketched an image of a bouquet of flowers. To the right, a bloom of Helenium nestled next to a burst of wild honeysuckle, surrounded by delicate leaves of Coltsfoot. Most prominent were bursts of marigold.
At the very bottom, she wrote a short note in Ancient Greek:
I regret to inform you of the tragic death of our close friend… may his memory be for a blessing to all in our company. May ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth new wings to carry us all forward…
Leaving it unsigned, she quickly removed the obituary from the newspaper and charmed it not to fold. Rolling it carefully into the sheet of parchment, Eleftheria deftly tapped both papers to Disillusion their contents. Anyone opening it would simply see a rather asinine letter about her recent trip to Egypt and a newspaper recipe for low-fat shwarma.
Fixing it with her personal seal, she rose smoothly and made her way across her study toward a rather elegant box resting upon one end of a bookshelf.
At first glance, the box appeared to be nothing more than a fanciful decoration; it was thin and narrow, barring more helpful or traditional uses, and embossed with a handpainted fractal that looked like iridescent lace. Only the careful observer would realize its true nature, and even then, it would only work for a member of the Guild.
Carefully placing the parchment inside, Eleftheria closed it and murmured a short incantation, tapping it twice. She did not need to open it to know her message had been sent.
There. Her colleagues had been notified.
Hopefully Zohar or René will have information we can use.
Eleftheria sighed, shaking her head lightly. Another member of the Guild gone…
Returning to her desk, she sat heavily, ringed hand twisting her wine glass as she stared into its contents unseeingly.
There were indeed dark days ahead.
A/N: As you may imagine, Yiayia's message had a series of codes wrapped into it. The phrase, "May his memory be for a blessing," is a traditional Jewish prayer for the deceased, sometimes written as 'zichronam livracha.'
The flowers all possess hidden meanings, as taken from Victorian flower codes:
Helenium - Tears
Wild Honeysuckle - Inconsistency
Coltsfoot - Injustice
Marigold - Grief
The short quote alludes to a message from Shakespeare's Henry VI:
"My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth
A bird that will revenge upon you all:
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with."
You have my assurance that a good amount of backstory will be revealed in the next three chapters. :)
-R