A/N: Have you ever held a long, winding conversation with someone that took you on an unexpected roller coaster ride through your own emotions? Did it ever leave you somewhat dazed and bewildered, unsure of how you managed to talk yourselves from Point A to B to Z to F to M...?
Well...
... Enjoy! (And bear with me.)
Hermione experienced a surreal floating sensation as Dia led them toward the one wing of the villa she had never explored. Her master held her hand lightly as they moved through the darkened halls, seemingly subdued after their rather colorful interaction with her family.
Their bond seemed to thrum slightly and Hermione noted absently that they were walking in perfect synchronization. She felt their shared exhaustion and overall numbness setting in and a thread of something different that she couldn't quite place. Something like nostalgia or melancholy.
The french doors at the end of the hall opened before them and several hundred white candles winked into flame as they entered a beautiful, spacious sitting area.
The entire room resonated in shades of white, ivory, and light blue, similar to the décor throughout the rest of the villa, but as Hermione looked around curiously, she noted that everything seemed much cozier and less formal than the rest of the home. The entire wall off their left appeared to be floor-to-ceiling windows covered in gauzy, white curtains similar to the ones in Hermione's room.
Overhead, high ceilings revealed natural wood beams beneath which hovered white tea lights drifting lazily through the open space. The room itself seemed to be split into two areas. To their immediate left, the room opened into a square sitting area complete with a white L-shaped sofa featuring some rather plush-looking pillows, a rather elegant chaise lounge, and a small ivory chesterfield draped with what looked to be a hand-knitted throw. A low wood coffee table sat in the center with a small island of white candles and an open edition of Transfiguration Today.
On the other side of the room, the white flagstones stopped at a small set of wide adobe stairs that led into an open study. The wall on the right featured bookshelves completely packed full of colorful texts and artfully arranged trinkets, and the far wall held another set of French doors that appeared opened into another outdoor terrace. In the center of the study, lay a plush white carpet upon which sat a large, natural wood desk that was remarkably clear aside from a plethora of glowing white candles.
It was obvious from other areas of the villa that Master Kallas preferred candlelight to any other means of illumination, but Hermione was struck by the added number of white candles throughout her chambers. They seemed to glow from every surface - a low wall streaming behind the L-shaped couch, the coffee table, the desk and bookcase. Even the adobe stairs boasted a few artfully placed pillar candles. The easy, twinkling light drenched the room in an easy, romantic glow and Hermione found herself gaping at the sight.
This is heavenly...
As she turned to comment upon the room's beauty, Hermione's mouth went dry and she found herself backpedaling in surprise.
Master Kallas stood facing away from her, in the process of unwrapping her robes.
The witch's braid had been unwound - dark curls spilling down her back like a waterfall. Her heavy blue robes were quickly vanished and for a moment Hermione swore her heart stopped as Master Kallas unwrapped the lighter second layer and her lithe, feminine silhouette was revealed against the backdrop of candlelight.
A second later the witch turned and Hermione flushed, quickly averting her eyes, afraid to be caught staring at her master who wore a rather sheer silk slip. Get a grip! You've seen her in her swimsuit and that reveals more!
"Please make yourself comfortable, Hermione," Master Kallas said wearily, gesturing at Hermione's robes and toward the room at large. The elder witch sighed softly and moved over to plop down on the chaise lounge in a completely undignified manner that was somehow more jarring than her state of dress.
"Would you like wine?" Master Kallas asked, seafoam eyes flicking up to meet Hermione's.
"N-no thank you," she managed, blushing slightly when Master Kallas gave her a small knowing smile. Hermione watched as the witch summoned a bottle of Merlot and poured herself a generous glass, still attempting to absorb this new, unexpectedly casual side of her master.
"While your rather charming attempt at impersonating a Greek statue is indeed beautiful, we've shared a long day and I suggest you sit, darling," Master Kallas said, still focused on the wine.
Hermione sat.
… and bit back a groan as her body sank into the sofa's welcoming embrace. Merlin, this thing has to be charmed!
"Comfortable, no? That's why I generally sit here, otherwise I would never get any work done," Master Kallas chuckled, lifting her glass toward Hermione in a gentle salute.
Hermione shifted and wrinkled her nose, pausing a moment as her work robes bunched unpleasantly. There was a brief moment of indecision as she debated whether or not to remove a set and take her master up on her offer to be more comfortable. You wore that swimsuit this morning…
Swiftly rising, she vanished the first set of heavy robes and loosened the ties on the second so that the light fabric opened slightly, revealing her simple cotton underwear beneath. For a moment she thought she saw her master's gaze darken appreciatively but then the more formal side of the witch reasserted itself as she crossed her legs demurely.
"You did very well today, Hermione," her master said approvingly, looking over the wine glass with an intent expression.
"Thank you… it was…" Hermione trailed off, eyes and hands searching for the right words. Master Kallas tilted her head slightly and smiled.
"Different than you expected, no?"
Hermione nodded mutely, her tired mind unable to put words to her dual sense of achievement and personal challenge. There were still so many small details she wanted to review. So many questions. But beneath those things, she felt a deep sense of calm. Of rightness.
Of her two apprenticeships, Potions came the least naturally to her. It had been a personal challenge to pursue a field for which she possessed very little aptitude and that had made itself clear in the first several months of her studies. She had always taken to Transfiguration like a duck to water, but truthfully, Hermione had never excelled in Potions beyond the classic Hogwarts curriculum.
Her sixth-year studies had made that critically apparent when Harry's ratty, used Potions textbook suddenly deviated from the standard recipes and yet consistently yielded better results. It had been an infuriating, humbling, and entirely rattling experience for Hermione and she had suddenly realized that the written word only accounted for a portion of one's knowledge.
It had been an epiphany with nowhere to go and before Hermione could address what felt like a monumental shift in her understanding of educational practices, her sixth year had concluded, Albus Dumbledore had been killed, and her life had taken on an entirely new and precarious trajectory. Or so she had thought. She had been surprised to discover her earnest interest in the discipline after passing her N.E.W.T.s. Transfiguration had always been a given, but Hermione had never been one for the easy road. Re-examining her interests had suddenly revealed her latent curiosity.
Why had Harry's textbook been more successful than the standard? What did the Half-Blood Prince know that she didn't? It was a compelling mystery, and Hermione realized it was one that would continue to reassert itself over and over if she didn't delve deeper.
After today, however… she realized that there was indeed a strong passion simmering just beneath the surface. The months of rote memorization and rudimentary exercises in knife cuts, types of stirs, and ladling, had finally manifested into something compelling. Today she had been pushed well beyond her comfort zone… and she had actually enjoyed it. Brewing was sensual. Instinctual. Precise yet messy. It was a blend of many things that didn't come naturally for her, but therein lay the challenge.
Master Kallas shifted, moving a pillow beneath one elbow as she watched Hermione with a silky, Cheshire cat expression. Flushing, Hermione realized she had remained silent for several minutes, lost in her own thoughts.
"Sorry," she murmured, shifting slightly and smiling guiltily. "There's a lot I'm still processing… I was just thinking that today revealed several of my own challenges in a new light. I… I want to do it again. I think I'm looking forward to tomorrow - there are several things I want to try to integrate into my brewing practice."
Master Kallas nodded approvingly.
"Your vestibular system will have a chance to rest, process, and integrate while you sleep. You will be surprised tomorrow at how much your kinesthetic memory will allow you to achieve. Tomorrow's challenge will be different - you will be tired, the mind sluggish. The more you can tap into your body's initial instincts, the easier it will be," she said.
Master Kallas took a sip of wine and tucked her legs beneath her. Again, Hermione experienced a strange jolt at seeing her proper master so… at ease. Ever perceptive, the other witch sniffed lightly in amusement.
"You are seeing a part of me that I usually don't allow apprentices to witness until well into their second classification," she said. Hermione stilled, unsure of what to say.
"Tonight as well… I never allow apprentices to unwind in my personal chambers…" the witch spoke softly and Hermione didn't know whether she was expected to comment, apologize, or question. A moment later, however, Master Kallas' eyes flicked to hers and she gave her a long look.
"This leads me to the discussion we must have, Hermione."
The witch opened her hand and the wine glass floated back to the table on its own. Hermione felt a thrum of anticipation and anxiety, completely unprepared for whatever conversation her master was about to initiate.
"The events of today have opened a new door for us. It means we will not be adhering to the schedule I had initially developed," Master Kallas said calmly. A moment later her eyes dropped and her thin fingers pulled at a lock of her hair. Experiencing another jolt of surrealism, Hermione realized that the other witch was nervous. Curious, she sat forward.
"What does that mean?" she asked softly.
Master Kallas kept her eyes trained on her hands as she continued quietly, "The Transfiguration Society has called a Quorum. No, that is incorrect. A Quorum has been requested by the International Confederation of Wizards." Her light gaze flicked up to meet Hermione's.
"The last time a Quorum was convened at the behest of the ICW was during the rise of Grindelwald… it is a very rare occurrence and a very large request," she explained. Again, Hermione felt a flicker of anxiety through their bond. Still she remained silent, unasked questions undoubtedly swimming in her eyes.
"A Quorum consists of twelve witches or wizards who hold the highest levels of Mastery within our discipline. The wands are drawn at random by whomever was contacted with the request - in this case, Master Admetus Clemént Nettleship of Switzerland. At the moment there about twenty-five of us who could serve," she paused, looking distantly at the candles flickering on the coffee table.
Hermione noted her use of the word "us," feeling a small surge of pride at having confirmation that her master was indeed one of the best in her field.
I knew it.
"Minerva will be serving," she mumbled softly and Hermione wasn't sure if she was meant to hear that aside. The witch swallowed and shifted, returning to look at Hermione directly.
"Do you understand why this is such disturbing news?" she asked.
No.
Hermione frowned, thinking.
"Well… I don't understand why the ICW would need to call a Quorum unless some aspect of the attacks was directly tied to Transfiguration in a way that would demand confirmation or acknowledgement from the highest masters," she started, thinking aloud.
Master Kallas nodded.
All right...
"Which… I suppose would indicate that there is more to these attacks than have been mentioned in public press? Some aspect of Transfiguration that was used that they need help with? Like a consultation?"
Master Kallas sat stiffly, nodding again and gesturing her for to continue.
"Yes. What else?"
What else? Think, Hermione.
"And this is concerning because… I'm assuming the meeting will have to be public knowledge, right? Which, we still don't know the identities of the perpetrators which means…" she trailed off, feeling the hair on her neck stand on end as her mind raced ahead.
"Which means that those serving on the Quorum will be outed. They are the best in our field which means they hold the key to solving the puzzle of either the nature of the violations or the identity of those responsible," she finished, knowing her brows had lifted in worry.
Master Kallas nodded grimly.
Circe's Tits! Is there no such thing as an undercover investigation in this world?
"What else?" Master Kallas asked patiently, light eyes persuading Hermione to continue. She took a small sip of wine. Incredulous, Hermione sat back, chewing on one lip.
This is bad. This is bad bad bad… Twelve people are going to be outed as masters simply for acting as consultants because the ICW has a problem too big to solve…
A lightbulb went off in her mind.
Startled, she looked at Master Kallas who sat, nodding her head at the epiphany.
Oh shit.
"But if the ICW couldn't determine the nature of the Transfiguration used in the attacks… it means that whomever is responsible has high-level abilities. Meaning, it's likely one of our own," she finished in a whisper, horrified by the idea.
How are they going to contain this? How is this possibly a good idea?
Master Kallas sat back, gaze drifting away as she took a deep breath and resettled.
"The last time a Quorum convened we were not alone. Grindelwald managed to sway several high-level witches and wizards over to his side and their identities were already well-known to the general Wizarding population. Three societies convened in a joint effort to stop them - Transfiguration, Charms, and Potions. The ICW acted as mediator and it was a closed session, meaning only the masters serving were known to each other, minimizing the level of public scrutiny. This was before my time," Master Kallas explained. Her face fell slightly and a crease appeared between her brows.
"This time, however, we are all going in blind and the session has been opened to the entire Transfiguration society. It is unclear at this point how much the ICW will mediate and how much they will simply observe. I believe they intend us to solve this from within," she said, still frowning.
"That's ludicrous! How could they ask that? How could the ICW possibly ensure everyone's safety, even if we are amongst ourselves?" Hermione exclaimed angrily, almost afraid to hear the answer. Master Kallas sighed, fiddling with her curl again.
"They have control over the location which will be the greatest help to us. Atlantis continues to remain the greatest Magical stronghold known to history," she replied thoughtfully.
What?
Hermione frowned and shook her head. Master Kallas reached for her wine, sipping it quietly and then quirking her head in question when Hermione remained silent.
"I'm sorry, but did you say Atlantis?" she asked after a moment. Master Kallas raised an eyebrow.
"Do you know of a different island by that name?"
Hermione sat forward and lifted a hand, punctuating each word with her finger.
"Do. You. Mean. To. Tell. Me. That. Atlantis. Is. Real?" she asked angrily. Master Kallas' eyes widened slowly and she set her glass down again swiftly.
"My apologies, Hermione. I didn't think - I mean, I didn't realize it must still not be taught in standard curriculum," she rushed, unexpectedly stumbling over her words. Her light gaze swept over Hermione's face with concern, clearly unsure of the impending response.
"It's real. It's really real? Are you fucking with me?" she finally managed, pinning her master with a hard look. With both eyebrows lifted now, Master Kallas seemed to be teetering on the verge of amusement and worry.
There's an entire magical island out there and I didn't know about it? How is that possible?
"Don't be angry, darling. You are not alone in not knowing," she began reassuringly, lifting a hand in a placating gesture.
Tired and suddenly irate beyond measure, Hermione held up a hand and interrupted her master in a gesture she had seen Eleni give a hundred times. No no no.
"Don't patronize me, Master! There's apparently an entire fucking island out there that I didn't know about. That seems like more than a simple oversight to me especially considering it's about to host one of the most important magical meetings of our time!"
Fuming, Hermione realized she had somehow leapt to her feet and was staring down at Master Kallas with clenched fists. The elder witch looked up at her in surprise. A moment later, a wave of comfort washed through her and Hermione realized it was her master calming her through their bond.
"Let me explain the history to you, hmm? There is an easy remedy toward solving unawareness," Master Kallas said lightly, gesturing to the sofa.
Covering her embarrassment with grumpiness, Hermione sat heavily and crossed her arms like a petulant child. Master Kallas shot her an amused look, flicking a finger and sending the wine glass Hermione's way.
Wine isn't going to fix this, witch.
The glass proceeded to bump into her knee gently and Hermione frowned at it for long moment before giving in and taking it, sipping silently as she pinned her master with a pointed look. A ripple of her master's amusement passed over her.
"Firstly, I appreciate your candor. I do not allow many to speak to me in such a manner, but your passion is... persuasive," Master Kallas said, shifting to stretch her legs and prop her chin on a fist casually. Her light eyes sparkled.
"To answer the source of this oversight, we must go back in time. Very far back, several thousand years ago," she started, gazing at Hermione in a soft way that made her feel like squirming. Master Kallas had allowed her outburst without so much as a significant look. She felt self-conscious niggle of guilt.
But if there's anything I truly hate, it's not knowing something vitally important! How could I not have known?!
Master Kallas raised a dark eyebrow and Hermione let her inner monologue fall silent.
"Atlantis has always been a stronghold of magic, much like other communities and cities that have arisen all over the world. Alexandria. Djenné. Cuzco. Salem. Long before the ISOS, Atlantis was far more unguarded than other magical locations for the simple fact of being an island. Witches and wizards lived freely, able to revel in their abilities and test research amongst themselves without the worry of prying Muggle eyes."
Hermione felt herself settling, falling into the rhythm of her master's practiced storytelling with ease. The wine didn't hurt either.
"Eventually the island earned a reputation in both worlds for being a center of innovation and commerce. We know that Muggles were aware of Atlantean power to an extent, of course, because of the key writings of Plato. However, much to our amusement, he was wrong about several important details."
Master Kallas beckoned with her index finger and the wineglass returned to her. She paused a moment to lean forward and refill it and Hermione was graced with a rather generous view of the witch's chest. Holy Helga… there are too many things to take in today.
"Firstly, Plato describes Atlantis as being a landmass larger than Libya and Asia Minor. That is incorrect. It is a respectable size island, and… as with many places and locations of Magical influence and invention, subject to change. Plato likely imagined it to be larger that it is much in the way magical houses appear larger on the inside than their exterior suggests," she paused to see if Hermione was following. She nodded, watching dark fingers grasp the stem of the glass gently.
"Second, his location was wrong, though no one has the ability to truly correct it. Atlantis is actually fairly close to us within the Mediterranean, though its has been rendered Unplottable and the exact coordinates are Secret-Kept. Commerce and transport to and from the island are highly monitored through a system of Portkeys and Trans-Apparative Gateways. An Anti-Apparation Net covers the island making Apparation to and from the Atlantis impossible, but it remains accessible from within only at the specific gateways scattered across the island."
Hermione wondered at the power and sustainability at hiding an entire island. Most magical locations employed a series of wards to keep them secret and hidden from Muggle eyes and technology, but what Master Kallas was explaining indicated an entirely separate and mind-bogglingly complex level of magic. A host of questions burned in her mind, but she remained silent, wanting to absorb as much as possible.
"Plato's writings essentially boil the story down to an epic tale of good versus evil. The Atlanteans were the main culprits and the Athenians were the victors. Our own history is a bit smudged on the topic, but we can imagine that over time it became more and more difficult to keep Atlantis a secret from the burgeoning Greek, Cretan, and Minoan societies developing around it. Atlantis is indeed a wondrous testament to some of the proudest examples of Wizarding achievement - Architecture being one of them. It became difficult to explain such obvious and fantastic advancements made upon similar developments happening in the Muggle world. The size and scale of the Atlantean power grew too great for mere Disillusionments."
Master Kallas paused, and sipped her wine, brushing an errant curl away from her neck.
"Some of the best and brightest witches and wizards of the age gathered, and, if accounts are to be believed - in a truly explosive burst of magical ability, they managed to conceal Atlantis from the world. Thus, the island was removed from the annals of Muggle history and it was believed that the entire Atlantean civilization was destroyed."
"If what you say is true, then why have I never heard of it?" Hermione asked indignantly, still unable to fathom that such an important piece of Wizarding history had been overlooked. If this is Binns' fault, so help me, I'm marching back to Hogwarts tomorrow!
Master Kallas held up a hand. Patience.
"Atlantis remained both a well-kept secret and common knowledge to the Wizarding world for quite a long time afterward. Eventually, as the Hellenic empires rose and fell, there was a gradual migration and spread of magical ability to all throughout Europe. To coin a term, the island fell out of vogue. It has always been inhabited by the Magical community, but for a number of centuries its population declined."
Master Kallas sipped the wine languidly before sending the glass back over.
Though she was intent on hearing the rest of the story of Atlantis and this was essentially a lecture of sorts, Hermione was beginning to relax in a way that she hadn't experienced in quite a long time. She had demanded the story after all… But something in the simple action of sharing a wineglass made Hermione feel different - as if they were two friends or equals rather than master and apprentice. It was rather... nice.
"The age before the ISOS was incredibly tumultuous. Muggles, particularly the Church, were hell-bent on waging war against the Wizarding world and essentially pursuing genocide against us. For a time our community was splintered. This was before the age of Ministries - before we had systems and leaders to turn to who could enact plans of action that would ensure secrecy and protection. Each person or family had to fend for themselves. Those with greater resources, education, and abilities were met with greater success… many of their descendants continue to prosper throughout Europe as what we now call Pureblood families."
Hermione sniffed, her mind jumping to Malfoys immediately. Somehow she couldn't imagine Draco's forebears as innovative leaders during the Dark Ages. Likely they just paid everyone else off...
"Eventually however, at great risk and peril, again the best and brightest minds of the age met and decided that the issue had grown too great. Though a number of local governments had stepped in and a few small armies had amassed to counter the growing threat, the wisest of the era convened and agreed that it was time for the Magical community to withdraw from the Muggle eye. We looked to them in trust and confidence and thus, the International Statute of Secrecy was signed."
Master Kallas' voice was like silk. Smooth and elegant, it carried her words in an effortless flow that captured Hermione's imagination in ways that she had never before experienced. Granted, anything was probably better than listening to the monotonous drone of a ghost during her History of Magic classes, but still… While she had scored an Outstanding in her N.E.W.T.s for the subject, somehow Master Kallas' retelling of well-known events infused the stories with more passion and wonder than Hermione had ever thought such dated events could possess.
Enthralled, she felt herself leaning forward as the witch continued.
"It was agreed however, that a Magical world order was needed. In times of crisis or concern, there must be an international organization that can be contacted should the Muggle threat ever escalate and terrorize us again; A wise, impartial group that we can turn to for assistance and protection. That first meeting of notable witches and wizards became the first incarnation of such an organization."
"The ICW," Hermione breathed. Master Kallas nodded. "The ICW," she affirmed.
Combing a hand through her curls, Master Kallas leaned back and reclined somewhat, continuing to gaze at Hermione through lidded eyes.
"It became clear in time that the ICW would need a place to convene. Someplace well-protected where significant numbers of magical folk would be able to meet in secret without drawing undue attention. Someplace where magic was deeply embedded into the fabric of the earth and able to be accessed in times of need."
"Atlantis."
Duh. It was so obvious. Mentally, Hermione was kicking herself. How in the name of Merlin and Morgana had it never occurred to her that the ICW would need a physical location to call home? Granted, her history books had given the impression that the confederation didn't really need to convene very often.
Which is good, she supposed. It means they're doing their job if there are no major meetings.
But still. Even though local Ministries and Bureaus oversaw local communities and populations, who was checking to ensure that international laws were being abided and cared for? Who was writing and enforcing those laws?
Rowena's right buttock, you're completely daft!
Hermione was nodding to herself, still bewildered she had made such a gross misstep of her intellect.
"Why is it not common knowledge?" she asked eventually.
At that, Master Kallas wrinkled her nose slightly and pulled a face. Who was this new witch and where had her master disappeared? Hermione felt a swooping sensation in her chest as she realized she found it incredibly endearing.
Calm down, girl.
"For the most part, continued secrecy been an effort to minimize criticism and interference of the ICW itself. If people don't know where to send criticism, things can continue as they are. Personally, I believe governmental organizations are most effective when they are transparent and the ICW's effort to protect itself from international judgment is misguided, self-serving, and entirely misplaced. An educated population is a safe population, in my opinion," Master Kallas said forcefully, tossing her curls.
Hermione had to agree.
"Officially, however, it's also a concerted effort to keep the island protected. I find this reasoning to be a bit more palatable. Atlantis is small. It cannot host a wave of tourists even if they are magical, and at this point the ICW is largely responsible for the entire landmass. It is not a vacation spot despite its natural beauty and those who are visiting are either part of an inquiry, consultation, convocation, or official office. There simply isn't space nor reason for people to visit," she said.
Hermione frowned slightly.
"So no one really lives there?"
"To be honest, I don't really know. I imagine a majority of people commute, particularly those who work in the capital of Aetherion. However, like any city, it hosts a number of smaller businesses and establishments. Beyond the capital, I know little. There are several temples to the north... though now that I think of it, it must host a local population as certain temples exist only on Atlantis," Master Kallas frowned thoughtfully as her thin fingers stroked her chin. It was not often she was able to witness the witch in a state of not-knowing. Again, Hermione found it rather endearing.
Wait, how could she know so much about the island, unless...
"But you've been there?" Hermione asked excitedly. Light eyes zeroed in on her own and narrowed.
"I have." Master Kallas' reply was curt and her lips thinned, effectively barring more questions. Before Hermione had the opportunity to feel disappointed, the elder witch shifted, sitting up to look at her directly. "Moreover, this draws us to the part of the discussion I was intent on bringing to you…"
With a jolt, Hermione realized they had spent the majority of the past half hour answering her questions instead of getting to her master's original point.
"Sorry…" Hermione mumbled.
Merlin, how long have we been talking? Master Kallas probably wants to go to sleep. Hell, you want to go to sleep.
Master Kallas shook her head, black curls springing back and forth lightly.
"Never apologize for questions, Hermione," she said kindly. "Indeed, we have likely closed a gap in your education and opened several more… Tomorrow, I will provide you with further texts and references on Atlantis to read at your leisure."
Hermione felt a surge of emotion for the witch - gratitude and appreciation and… something else she couldn't define. Master Kallas simply resettled, sitting up slightly and crossing her legs again modestly.
"As we discussed earlier, an open Quorum of the Transfiguration society will be convened on Atlantis. I have inferred that it will likely be held concurrent to a conference of the ICW. The Quorum has been scheduled for the first week of December."
Hermione nodded and set the wineglass back on the coffee table.
The first week of December was in two weeks.
She surmised that an "open Quorum" meant that Master Kallas would have to attend, especially given that she herself could have served upon it. However, a concurrent conference of the ICW? That seemed rather suspicious… How would they keep both meetings separate? What if there's overlap between people? Isn't that dangerous for the Quorum participants?
A short moment later the witch confirmed her earlier guess.
"I am to attend," Master Kallas said with a strange sort of finality that indicated Hermione was supposed to glean some sort of point.
She didn't.
Master Kallas smiled slightly at her confusion.
"Hermione, as my Apprentice, that means you must also attend. It is only appropriate," she gently explained.
Ohhh.
... Wait.
"So, we'll both be going to Atlantis," Hermione stated, feeling a thrill of excitement at the idea. Master Kallas nodded.
"Yes. However, there is much preparation was must do to ensure you are ready."
At that, Hermione felt a spike of anxiety. Ready? Why ready? Are they going to test me?
"As a first-classification apprentice, generally there would be little for you to worry about beyond becoming mind-numbingly weary at having to follow me about and attend to me in a truly unfortunate manner reminiscent of master and indentured servant."
Master Kallas wrinkled her nose again and Hermione felt a flash of amusement and relief.
"Fortunately for you, that has never been my method. I do not believe in it. I do not appreciate it. I do not wish to partake in it as a tradition, however I must make it clear to you that despite the elevated nature of our discipline and the space we maintain within it, you are about to encounter one of the most aggravating aspects of our backwards Wizarding culture," Master Kallas spoke quickly and her irritation was fairly palpable.
"Both the Potions and Transfiguration society - and likely the others, though I am not privy to their inner-workings… are bound by traditions and a set of cultural expectations that enforce some of the least savory facets of Wizarding history, in my opinion."
Hermione nodded, attempting to understand.
"For ease of understanding, simply imagine a gathering of Pureblood witches and wizards and consider how they may behave and conduct themselves amongst each other," Master Kallas said, searching to see if Hermione understood. As Hermione's face registered her dismay, her master nodded.
"So you see how unpleasant it will be?"
Hermione nodded again, feeling rather ill. Good Godric! If you aren't the biggest Muggleborn to ever grace the Quorum… Oh god, will they judge you for it?
Before she could ask, Master Kallas rose suddenly, waving a hand agitatedly and relighting a few candles that had gone out. Blinking, Hermione sat up, willing her tired mind to respond to the undoubtedly important information that her master was about to impart.
She suddenly felt exhausted, queasy, and more than a little overwhelmed at all the information she had absorbed and was continuing to absorb in the space of the last twenty-four hours.
Keep it together, girl.
"As I said, generally as a first-classification apprentice you would have little to worry about. However for better or worse, you are anything but general and this is an extraordinary set of circumstances we find ourselves in."
Hermione watched her master pace behind the chesterfield, the queasy feeling beginning to assert itself even more. The witch's words continued to echo. You are anything but general…
"You are a notable witch, Hermione, and that makes you interesting. Undoubtedly we will receive extra attention because of who we are… however in this case it could be a disadvantage. A security risk. We must be cautious. Incredibly cautious…" Master Kallas spoke quickly as she paced and Hermione was unsure whether she was still speaking directly to her or simply thinking out loud. One hand had drifted to her chin and the witch's face was slightly hidden behind her mane of curls.
There had been a flicker of curiosity at the inclusive phrase, "because of who we are," but Hermione chose to simply swallow and stand. Clearly her master needed her assistance.
"What must I do?" she asked quietly.
Across the room, Master Kallas froze, her face still obscured.
"Oh, darling…"
Unexpectedly, Master Kallas simply turned looked at her for a long moment, biting a full lip. A range of emotions played across her beautiful features while Hermione waited, unsure of what her master would instruct.
"I have every confidence in you," Master Kallas whispered so quietly Hermione wasn't even sure that she heard her.
A moment later, the witch was pacing again - hands clasped behind her back, her thin slip fluttering about her thighs. She spoke quickly and Hermione's overtaxed mind struggled to process the flood of information.
"Tomorrow, as my aunt so gracefully mentioned earlier… we will begin by traveling to Athens in the afternoon to fit your robes and commission your apprenticeship sigils. It will help you to step into the intricacies of this role you must master. Appearances in both societies are important as they reveal our networks, histories, affinities, and abilities in a myriad of subtle coding."
Coding? Wha-? Whatever. New robes tomorrow. Got it.
"The first true challenge will come in the form of language. I will be giving you the transcripts from the most recent conference on Transfigurative Methodology, as well as several as-of-yet unpublished articles from Transfiguration Today. Beyond versing yourself in the basics of contemporary theory, you must also begin to understand the antiquated manner in which society operates, namely the difficult nature of how we must speak. I will have Stelios begin tutoring you as well. He is remarkably skilled when it comes to the affected speech of high society and how to turn an elegant phrase. As a first-classification apprentice, you should not be spoken to without my prior acquiescence, however I just know…" Master Kallas trailed off, waving a hand as if to clear smoke, "The point is that you must quickly assimilate the language of society in the rare, but inevitable event that you will be recognized and addressed. I will not have either one of us caught off guard."
Despite Master Kallas' apparent concern for Hermione's communicative abilities, Hermione felt a spark of interest. Languages had always come easily to her and she continued to love and admire the intricacies of Muggle literature and prose as well as the works of a number of foreign writers. Language is something I can do.
"The second will come in the form of behavior. Though I loathe to subject you to the presence of my family, Yiayia is the consummate professional of proper etiquette. You must learn the subtle intricacies from her. Disregard the impression you received this evening. When she wishes, she can behave."
At that, Hermione felt a rise of antipathy. Etiquette and other forms of controlled behavior were things that grated on her sense of feminism and individual expression. Her parents had raised her to be forthright and honest. The subversive methods she saw others using to get ahead felt disingenuous and ridiculous to her.
Besides, she was about as subtle as a thunderclap.
"The rest is unimportant. But what I truly must know -" Master Kallas whirled around, interrupting herself and looking at Hermione with wide eyes as if she hadn't seen her in days. In a few powerful strides, she was standing close… eyes traveling over Hermione's face searchingly.
Hermione bit back the urge to shrink back, surprised at the other witch's proximity.
"Hermione, I must ask your intention beyond your first classifications. Have you given it any thought… do you intend…" the witch's voice was little more than a whisper, and for a moment Hermione thought she saw a flash of fear in those eyes.
But she must have imagined it, because she blinked and Master Kallas simply gazed at her, face open, waiting for a response.
What did she intend?
An array of images flashed through Hermione's mind.
Brewing. Swimming. Training. Eleni. Texts. Wandless magic.
Master Kallas had given her everything.
She was invigorated. Challenged. Supported.
What did she intend?
"It was and has always been my intention to remain with you through my third classifications and to re-evaluate my options from there. I cannot think of any event that would change my mind," Hermione replied, her voice low but firm. How could her master fathom anything otherwise?
Master Kallas closed her eyes in response and turned away, and Hermione felt herself move forward slightly. Was she upset? Angry? Did she not want to teach her any longer?
"Thank you," the witch replied softly, her voice thick with emotion. Hermione felt a pleasant shimmering sensation across her body that she couldn't name, but before she could open her mouth to ask what Master Kallas meant, the witch had moved closer, coming to place both hands on her shoulders.
Seafoam eyes gazed up into hers with a hint of regret.
"Hermione… in that case, I must ask you for something," Master Kallas whispered softly.
Hermione nodded mutely, again unsure of how to respond to her master's invasion of her personal space. She was torn between wanting to close the gap between them and shrinking away from the powerful draw the other woman seemed to hold over her. Those almond eyes seemed impossibly large.
"I must ask you to submit your theses earlier. There are things I must begin to teach you that go beyond the curriculum of your first classifications. Events are in motion that are larger than both of us and our only opportunity to counteract them is to accelerate the nature of your studies. Please trust that I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel it were vital," Master Kallas said seriously, her lilting voice imploring.
Hermione's mind was swimming.
Vital? What was Master Kallas talking about? What events? The Quorum? Atlantis?
"I understand," she croaked even though she didn't. This was a challenge and she wasn't about to back down from it.
Master Kallas looked at her as if assessing the seriousness of her conviction and Hermione lifted her chin. A moment later, the witch nodded and released her hold on her shoulders.
"You must submit them by the fifteenth of December," she stated.
A spiral of horror sliced through Hermione's gut and she felt her mouth drop open. That left her a month! Potentially less! They had originally projected her first classifications to end sometime in April. At the most, she had thought her master meant to move her up to late January. But a month?!
"Hermione. You can't tell me they're not already half written," Master Kalas said with a gentle lift of one eyebrow. Hermione resisted the urge to splutter in indignation. So what if they're half done? There still so much more to do!
A hand on her arm steadied her and she lifted her panicked gaze to her master's calm features.
"Be calm, my apprentice. I know what I ask is great, however I assure you I wouldn't have presented the challenge if I thought you would fail. I also remind you that it is vital we adhere to this new timeline," Master Kallas said, squeezing her arm gently.
"I-I…. All right," Hermione managed, slumping slightly. She felt as though she were collapsing in on herself. A firm hand beneath her chin drew her eyes up and Master Kallas leaned forward, stepping to look up at her with a playful expression.
"Darling, do not doubt yourself. In the end, you are only in competition with yourself," she reminded her softly.
Hermione felt tears gathering in her eyes.
She was so overwhelmed. Tired. Confused. Uncertain.
Her master's words unraveled some of the fear that coiled itself around her heart, but there was so much that suddenly felt unknown to her. The quiet safety of her surroundings and new life had been thrown into chaos and she didn't understand what it all meant.
Master Kallas seemed to understand her struggle, for a moment later, Hermione was enveloped into a warm embrace.
"Oh darling. Everything will unfold itself before you soon. I am with you and we will do this together," she whispered, her words tickling Hermione's ear.
The soft, solid body was reassuring and a moment later, Hermione felt her arms rise of their own accord to wrap around the smaller witch's body. Dark curls tickled her nose and she drew in a deep breath, inhaling the familiar reassuring scents of tea tree, eucalyptus, lavender and a hint of sweetness that was entirely unique to the woman in her arms.
They remained like that for a long moment, an unexpected blanket of comfort settling between the two of them and swirling through their shared bond as their energies combined and merged. Hermione felt her eyes close as her body settled into the embrace, feeling both weightless and supported.
And for an instant, it was the safest she had ever felt.
They both took a deep breath and then the moment passed.
Somehow, Hermione understood this was the abrupt and unexpected end to their evening. They were both exhausted. Their eight hour brewing session suddenly seemed as distant as the events of the early morning. Her mind felt full to the brim with too many things. Too many big things.
The ISOS violations. Potions. Recipes. The Quorum. Atlantis. Her theses. The future. Master Kallas.
Opening her eyes to the dwindling candlelight, Hermione felt herself flush with an entirely different warmth as they began to draw apart. At the last moment, spurred by some unknown impulse, she turned her head and gently brushed her lips lightly over her master's.
The soft lips felt like liquid silk... warm, inviting...
And then it was over.
She felt a shudder through their bond that seemed to crackle along her skin like electricity.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered softly, her eyes trained on the full lips that were slightly parted in surprise.
Her master took a shuddering breath, unconsciously pressing closer…
A gentle hand came up to cup her cheek, the other wrapping behind her neck and Hermione felt herself melt into the touch willingly, easily...
Master Kallas rose onto her tiptoes lightly and pressed her lips against Hermione's forehead, murmuring something softly in Greek that she didn't catch. A moment later, she drew Hermione's forehead down to rest against her own, reaching down and grasping one of Hermione's hands to draw up between them.
Their joined hands seemed far away and surreal. Like an image from a dream. Honey and cocoa.
"Kalinychta," the witch whispered.
A heartbeat later, she was gone.
Looking around suddenly as if waking from a deep slumber, Hermione absorbed the dying candles and the soft orange glow they cast about the now-empty room. Off to the right she noticed a set of stairs she had missed earlier, thin white curtains fluttering across them gently.
A wave of her hand extinguished the last of the candles, plunging the room into darkness save for the gentle glow of moonlight from the far end of the room. With one last look toward the mysterious staircase, Hermione departed, closing the french doors behind her gently.
As she drifted back through the darkened villa toward her rooms, Hermione shook her head softly, mind too full to do much more than long for her bed.
A gentle smile played lightly across her lips.
"Goodnight, Master."