A/N: I apologize for the gap in posts! This chapter has been giving me *the worst* writer's block! Agh! It's undergone several revisions and while I'm still not entirely happy with it, it serves for now. I will find more opportunities to unveil the things I need in the coming chapters.
Thanks for your patience and enjoy!
-R
"You are certain that this increases the probability?"
"I've checked over the equations several times, changing both minute and critical variables. In each instance, potential involvement increases the probability from anywhere from seventeen to thirty-three percent."
Minerva sighed, rubbing her sternum absently as she mused over the new information.
They were suspect from the beginning, but there simply aren't enough of them to contribute to events of this magnitude. There has to be more than one agenda on the table…
The large oak desk before her was strewn with parchments, all of them bearing the same light airy rows of Arithmantic equations. Filius sat opposite her, his grey eyes solemn as they deliberated over the results of his calculations which, unfortunately, remained quite vague.
"Very well. Thank you, Filius."
The small wizard nodded and quickly flicked his wand to assemble all of the parchments and fold them into a neat, orderly pile. Minerva cast a quick tempus and realized with a start that their meeting had run over by a half hour. She rose smoothly... intending to accompany her Deputy to the Floo, but found herself caught a moment later... unable to breathe as a powerful spasm passed through her body like a bolt of lightning.
Minerva put a hand on the desk to steady herself as she caught her breath. Eyes flicking upward, she was relieved to see that her colleague had not noticed.
Filius gracefully lowered his chair to the floor and took the pile of parchments under one arm. Her friend sighed to himself, shaking his head in concern as he began moving toward the fireplace.
Minerva followed gingerly, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down the back of her neck as she distantly registered her friend's casual comment about looking forward to the weather on Atlantis. Despite the quiet pulses of pain still wracking her body, Minerva managed to smile in sympathy.
Despite his customary pleasant attitude, Minerva knew that the recent events had troubled her colleague greatly. Filius' grandson lived in northern California, and though he had quickly written to assure the family that all was well, she knew it was difficult for her friend to bear the thought of his family so close to the wake of destruction. Ruefully, Minerva supposed she should be grateful for having few concerns such as those.
As they passed through the center of the office, a familiar figure in purple robes appeared above them and Minerva steadfastly chose to avoid eye contact as she moved stiffly beneath it.
"Thank you for coming, Filius. My apologies for keeping you past time. Perhaps events of tomorrow will herald information we can use," Minerva said softly. Her friend turned to look up at her, his wizened features set into a grave expression.
"Then let us suspend our concerns 'til the 'morrow then." Grey eyes appraised her quietly as Filius tilted his head. "Will we see you at dinner?"
"Of course. I shall notify you of any change," Minerva replied easily, offering the Floo powder. Filius gave a low nod. Taking a small handful of the powder, he cast it into the flames before swiftly stepping forward and vanishing with a swirl of bright emerald green.
As soon as her friend had disappeared, Minerva allowed herself to deflate slightly. Drawing a shaky breath, she finally allowed herself a moment to acknowledge the searing pain that was now rippling through her body. Eyes watering, she pressed a hand to the cool stone of the mantle and paused, gasping slightly as she attempted to draw deep breaths and quell the wave of nausea that threatened to overturn her stomach.
Ohhh no… Not yet, old girl… There are still many fragments you must yet piece together.
Minerva took another long moment to lean against the fireplace before drawing her wand and siphoning the excess powder and soot that had fallen upon the floor. A moment later, she straightened, drawing a deep breath and adjusting her spectacles as she made her way back to the piles of parchment still awaiting her perusal.
The figure above shifted and Minerva lifted a tired hand to forestall any further speculation as she settled in behind her desk.
"Not now, Albus," she murmured wearily.
Quietly, Minerva mused at the irony of her situation. Though she had promised herself that her tenure as Headmistress would be entirely devoted to the students, it seemed that the Head of Hogwarts was forever destined to be woven into a web of secrecy far larger than anyone could ever predict.
Picking up a quill, Minerva closed her eyes for a moment - suddenly feeling more weighted and alone than she had in over a year. Her memories from the most recent War hung illuminated - still fresh with guilt, pain, and loss.
Inhaling deeply, Minerva pulled a clean piece of parchment forward and before she could decide against it, set her quill to paper and began writing. There was no use in continuing to serve the dead. Her efforts were best served by protecting the living.
Everything else would unfold itself in due course.
Of that she was certain.
Hermione felt dead on her feet by the time she and Master Kallas had finished their second brewing session around two thirty. The rejuvenation potion she had taken in the morning seemed like a distant memory as they hurriedly assembled crates and packages, padding the bigger ones with sheep's wool to prevent breakage, and ensuring that the final touches on all the labels held Master Kallas' private seal.
They had left the lab in a half-finished state of disarray before Master Kallas checked the time and indicated they needed to be on their way to Athens. Hermione managed to shower quickly and don a simple set of dark blue robes before waiting in the main foyer. Briefly, she wondered if she should wear a cloak on account of the rainy weather, but it seemed too much trouble. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of one of the chairs in the living room, but she fought to remain alert and engaged.
Just a few more hours and then maybe you can sleep...
Master Kallas glided into the room looking immaculate as ever, with not even a hair out of place to indicate that she had been brewing for seven hours straight. One arm held a leather-bound appointment book and the other bore a French-style market basket. The witch was speaking softly to herself as she checked her pockets and Hermione smiled at being able to witness such a small unguarded moment. It wasn't often that she saw her master flustered.
"- need to remember that I have that here. Eh! Where is it? Ah, right," Master Kallas looked up and saw Hermione, her lovely features morphing into a guilty expression. "I apologize for keeping you waiting, darling. I believe we're ready. Do you have everything?"
Hermione nodded her affirmative as the other witch tucked the book into the basket. The main door opened behind them and Master Kallas' nose wrinkled slightly at turning and seeing the unpleasant weather. She swept behind Hermione and wrapped an arm around her shoulders before leading her outside, her wand quickly emerging to cast a Shield Charm against the elements.
"Are you alright?" Master Kallas asked softly as Hermione unconsciously nestled closer. She blushed and nodded. She was a bit cold, but mostly her nose had detected the witch's delectable scent as well as a hint of tastefully light perfume. Definitely all right.
They walked down the curved path of white flagstones, passing between formal white columns and beneath a long archway of pink bougainvillea that dripped from knotted branches overhead. The tall wrought iron gate at the end of the path signaled the end of the warding. Hermione felt a telltale ripple of magic and a distinct sense of moving through thick air as they stepped through to the other side.
"Ready?"
Internally, Hermione steeled herself for what was about to be one of her least favorite sensations. She nodded.
Master Kallas moved to face Hermione, drawing them together in an open sort of embrace as her gentle hands drifted down to hold her waist. Hermione automatically wrapped her arms beneath her master's shoulder blades, feeling a spark of anticipation as the witch's light scent enveloped her again. Seafoam eyes looked up at her with a hint of mischief, drawing her body closer…
And abruptly they were standing in a small courtyard, the distant sounds of the city echoing in the background as a light rain drizzled from above. Hermione looked to Master Kallas in surprise. Side-Along Apparation was usually incredibly unpleasant for her, leaving her nauseous for at least an hour afterward.
"It was better?" Master Kallas asked, still holding her close, light eyes staring into hers intently. Hermione inhaled and nodded, smiling as she realized she felt perfectly fine. One gentle hand rubbed her back reassuringly as her master gave her a dazzling smile in return.
"Good! I made a few adjustments to my technique. I don't wish you to be uncomfortable every time we travel," she said airily, before stepping back and readjusting her basket. Master Kallas held out a hand, her eyes warm.
"Come."
They fell into step, arms linked at the elbow - striding toward a stone archway and into the bustling streets of The Pharmakeion.
Athens' Wizarding district was hidden north of the central Acropolis and Hermione had immediately fallen in love with overwhelming aura of Greekness. The distinct and classic architecture made for an assortment of elegant colors and textures; delicious smells wafted from small cafés and bakeries boasting variations on traditional Greek foods, and the usual assortment of Wizarding stores blinked, purred, steamed, and shifted per magical expectation.
The Pharmakeion was less constricted than Diagon Alley - boasting several outdoor plazas and sitting areas where children could play and old men frequently gathered to challenge one another in games of Wizard's chess. While almost everyone spoke English, Hermione had been reluctant to come without her master - preferring the comfort of Master Kallas' shadow and the effortless manner in which the witch seemed to know and interact with almost everyone.
Hermione snuck a glance at her master as they walked - taking note of her mentor's easy energy and the way she held Hermione close. There hadn't been time for her to ask more questions about their long conversation from the night before, but somehow she knew that their relationship had changed slightly. They felt… closer.
Quietly she mused over how incredibly thoughtful it had been for Master Kallas to research what Hermione had always felt was an embarrassing overreaction to an efficient means of travel. The first time they had traveled to Athens via Side-Along, Hermione had immediately fallen to her knees and retched, much to her master's dismay. Afterward, wherever possible, Master Kallas had obliged her by taking the Floo, though she soon discovered her master had her own reaction to that means of travel that was just as unpleasant.
Master Kallas lifted an eyebrow as she caught Hermione's subtle observation, her clear gaze sliding up in silent question.
"Efxaristo," Hermione whispered quietly, feeling a rush of appreciation for the woman's thoughtfulness.
Master Kallas simply hummed quietly and gave a gentle shake of her head to indicate that it had been nothing. With their close proximity Hermione actually shivered as she felt the feathery tendrils of emotion through their bond that her master had clearly attempted to keep to herself.
Hermione fought not to smile, knowing it was useless. Master Kallas lifted her chin and turned them down a smaller side street that lead to the tailor, but Hermione swore she had seen those sweeping cheekbones flush.
From the subtle tingle, Hermione had discerned that her master liked when she spoke Greek.
Internally, she made a note to ask for more lessons from Eleni and Stelios.
… And to buy books. There are some things you cannot ask the Elves to translate.
"Minerva."
At the sound of the familiar voice, a wave of irritation washed through her and Minerva stilled, quietly placing her quill back in its holder and turning to lift her gaze toward the pair of bright blue eyes to her right. There was no good time to have this conversation.
"Yes, Albus?" She asked with more patience than she felt. The blue eyes weren't twinkling as he looked down at her solemnly.
"Have you given thought to reinstituting the Order?" he asked seriously, looking over the familiar half-moon spectacles.
"I have," Minerva replied evenly. The blue eyes flashed in response to her terse answer.
"Minerva, it is imperative that you send word-" Abruptly irritated, Minerva cut him off.
"Albus, while it is concerning that Filius' figures indicate potential involvement from former Death Eaters, I will not interrupt the lives of others simply because we have an Arithmantic hunch!" she spat. Albus shifted, leaning forward in his frame to pin her with a hard look.
"Minerva, if Filius' predictions are to be believed, than this fight will not contain itself to the affected countries," he replied.
"No, Albus. Though your argument is sound, it is still one of many potential outcomes. I will not disturb the general peace before there is more evidence to suggest that there is significant cause for us to mount a defense against a burgeoning threat," she said tiredly, one hand coming up to remove her spectacles.
"Tabby-"
"Enough! I have made my decision," Minerva said sharply, lifting a hand and coming to her feet. An arrow of pain shot through her entire skeleton and she quickly doubled over, her irritation compounded by the reminder of her own frailty. Before the portraits could react however, a gesture of her fingertips quickly bound them into silence as Minerva recovered.
Her steely burst of emotion softened slightly as Albus' portrait sent her a hard glare at being silenced and she moved out from the desk to look up at him more directly.
"I do not wish to be you, Albus," she said softly. "I am not a chessmaster and the world at large is not a game. I will not willingly pull others into the labyrinth until it is proven beyond a doubt that there is no other choice. I have given Hogwarts my life, Albus. Do you understand that? My life! I am bound-"
Minerva cut herself off and found that she was pacing, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating wildly. There was no need to get emotional. Turning again, she stood before Albus' portrait resolutely.
"There have been too many deaths, Albus. I cannot, in good conscience, throw this community back into chaos before it has had the opportunity to heal. It has been little over a year. We are all still grieving..." Minerva trailed off and took a deep breath to steady herself, folding her hands deliberately before continuing.
"Moreover, it is not the responsibility of the head of this school to ensure the safety and protection to anyone beyond its students and faculty. For the first time in a long time, we have a competent Minister whose duty it is to serve the people, and I will not shy from the work that remains here to ensure that Hogwarts is worthy of its reputation. Anything else that arises beyond that… I will handle accordingly."
Predictably, Albus simply shook his head and looked down at her sadly. His disappointment was palpable as he slowly rose from his painted chair and walked out of his frame. However, unlike other times and other moments they had shared in life, Minerva refused to allow herself the wave of guilt that usually followed.
A glance at the fireplace stoked the embers into burning afresh and Minerva took a deep breath before returning to her desk.
Three wars… three wars… No. Until this situation makes itself clear, this burden is one that will be carried quietly.
Minerva rubbed her aching sternum absently as she considered how very tired she felt.
Outside, a light snowfall had begun.
The small flakes drifted lazily past the windows, glinting in the midday sun that was attempting to peek through the clouds. Far below, a group of students called to each other as they ran across the grounds - their house colors wrapped warmly about their necks as their black robes whipped back and forth in the chill.
Minerva watched them for a moment, wondering again at the innocent ease of childhood as the students laughed amongst themselves. The fire crackled quietly and it suddenly seemed so long ago that she had been in the position they were now... before war, death, and loss had made themselves known to her.
Their scarves lifted in the breeze and two of them twirled, arms out and faces lifted toward the sky. Young. Careless. Free.
Minerva's eyes flicked up toward Albus' empty frame and a familiar hollow sensation bloomed in her chest as she once again cast her eyes over the empty office and all it represented.
"At times I envy you, old friend," she whispered.
To Master Kallas' immediate displeasure, Madam Anastos was still busy with another client when they had arrived for their appointment.
Hermione had been happy to sit for awhile, mind floating somewhere in limbo as her master had attended to the details of their order with an assistant. The shop was bright and elegant with large windows looking out into a small square plaza with a grove of citrus trees in the middle.
Unlike the majority of other Wizarding stores that favored candlelight, Anastos' boasted high tin ceilings and clean track lighting that was clearly meant to draw attention to the hundreds of bolts of fabric on the back wall, all of which seemed to be of the finest quality. Hermione found herself admiring the many colors and patterns absently, unaware that her eye kept straying toward the bolts of emerald, blue, and ivory with more regularity.
Hermione was so engrossed in her observation that she didn't even register another witch coming to sit next to her until the woman's clean ivory robes were practically in her lap. Turning with a start, she found herself eye to eye with Master Kallas' aunt who was doing a rather poor job of holding in a mischievous smile.
"Oh! Madam..! Erm…." Hermione tripped over her words realizing she had forgotten the witch's given name. The woman in question smiled broadly and quickly engulfed her in a warm hug. Over one shoulder she caught Master Kallas' vexed expression from where she was standing at the counter.
"Please darling, call me Yiayia. I only accept Madam Kefalas on business and the last person to address me as Eleftheria was my husband and he's been dead for ages!" the witch gushed, blue nails flashing as her hands waved about like butterflies. Hermione smiled and nodded, tired mind still catching up with the ball of energy sitting next to her.
"So how are you, darling? Do you enjoy your studies? How do you find the island? Do you miss home?" Yiayia fixed Hermione with a pleasant but intense gaze. As she tried to pull her thoughts together, Hermione noted that the elder witch had light hazel eyes - a different shade from her master's, but with the same almond shape and remarkable clarity. She wondered if it was a family trait.
"I'm doing well…" she began, trying to remember all of the questions. "Master Kallas has created a challenging curriculum for both the disciplines, but I've enjoyed her methods…"
She trailed off as Master Kallas strode over, extending a protective hand to rest on Hermione's shoulder.
"Theia… Promise me you'll behave yourself? Hermione, I apologize, but I must work with Maria first. It seems I must hasten to the post office."
"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked in concern. Light eyes met hers and softened.
"Yes, darling. Simply a letter I must respond to as soon as I finish. I will of course be back quickly to collect you," Master Kallas explained. Yiayia had remained quiet, but she quickly wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her close.
"Don't worry, anipsiá mou… Hermione and I will just get to know each other better while you're off attending to more important matters," Yiayia said conspiratorially. Master Kallas narrowed her eyes, moving her hand to smooth Hermione's curls back slightly. There was something slightly possessive about the action and Hermione fought not to blush.
"My apprentice is important, theia. I entreat you to attend to her accordingly. And both of you, please ensure Madam Anastos follows my instructions regarding Hermione's robes to the letter," Master Kallas said, giving her aunt a measured look.
Yiayia raised her eyebrows in reply and placed a hand over her heart. Curious, Hermione noted that each of the long fingers boasted a series of thin gold rings. The elder witch shot her niece a questioning look that seemed to be returned.
"You have my word, darling," Yiayia said after a moment, smiling broadly. Master Kallas gave her a curt nod and Hermione a small smile before stepping away and following Madam Anastos into an adjoining room. Hermione watched her go, feeling as though something had passed between the two witches that she hadn't been privy to.
"So… how is it going, really?" Yiayia asked, draping an elbow over the back of her chair and pinning Hermione with a hard look.
"Do you mean my studies?" Hermione asked in confusion. Hadn't she just answered?
"Yes! Dia is always so mysterious in the first classifications. Likely she just wants to protect you all from me, but I like to think I throw in a little… oh, I don't know je ne sais quois to your experience, don't you think?"
Yiayia gave a sly smile and Hermione found herself chuckling in response before answering the question in more depth.
They chatted on for a while discussing everything from Hermione's studies to the relationship that the Kefalas-Kallas family held with their House Elves to specific theories in both her Transfiguration and Potions curriculum.
Her master's aunt was outrageous at the very least, making her opinions well-known immediately, but her effusive personality seemed to be genuine as well as incredibly kind. As they spoke, it also became apparent that Yiayia possessed a razor sharp intellect and Hermione wondered if the witch were a Master herself, though it seemed Yiayia was well-versed in everything and an exact discipline remained unclear.
Despite her fatigue, Hermione found herself relaxing as she began to fall into the rhythm of the elder witch's dramatic way of speaking. Yiayia's words were punctuated by changes in pitch and volume and the oddly affected gesture. However, despite her gregariousness, it was clear the woman commanded respect.
At one point, Yiayia had been quick to move them to a different sofa, managing to intimate good-naturedly that the dirty windows were distracting her from their conversation. (While Hermione didn't much care either way, Yiayia indicated that it was a pet peeve of hers whenever her eye was always drawn toward uneven lighting - "An eye for design, darling! Both a blessing and curse!")
"So, is this what you imagined then… for your first classifications?" Yiayia asked at one point after Hermione had talked about her newfound love for the physical aspects of her training. The witch had agreed that Naxos was indeed a haven for rediscovering one's connection to the outdoors.
"This is certainly different than anything I could have anticipated. But I wouldn't trade it," Hermione replied seriously. Yiayia smiled and nodded, pointing a long finger at Hermione.
"Mmmhmm. Different is interesting, darling. And interesting is compelling. What's the definition of 'compelling'?"
Automatically, Hermione found herself parroting a reply.
"To compel is to force someone by a sense of duty."
"What a wonderful, clear mind you have," Yiayia replied seriously, her green eyes narrowing as she peered at Hermione with a rather sober expression. A moment later, she smiled conspiratorially.
"However, you are right. And never forget what power is held in being able to compel others to do your bidding," Yiayia said archly, one eyebrow raising slightly as her bright eyes subtly flicked down and to the left. She took a moment to fiddle with her rings as Hermione's brow furrowed.
She looked over the witch's left shoulder, attention suddenly drawn to the shops' assistant who had largely been busy folding bolts of fabric since they had started speaking. The young woman was now cleaning the windows intently, humming softly to herself and clearly fixated on her task.
Just from overhearing our conversation.
Hermione looked back at the other witch in surprise, her mind recalling her conversation with her master from the night before.
"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..."
"That was a lesson," Hermione half-asked in wonder, suddenly more interested in whatever 'etiquette' she was meant to absorb from this witch. Yiayia's lips curled into a smile and she simply gazed at Hermione for a long moment before leaning forward slightly.
"As much as Dia dislikes my unorthodoxy, I do appreciate that she knows to respect and value my differing perspective," she began in a low voice free of affectation.
The witch opened her palm and a delicate teacup materialized suddenly, self-stirring what appeared to be a cup of frothing Greek coffee. Yiayia sat back and crossed her legs demurely, and Hermione found herself straightening in response while experiencing a bizarre feeling of dejá vú at seeing the elder witch adopt the familiar mannerisms of Master Kallas.
"Our world Hermione, particularly the upper echelons of it, is full of people who cannot think for themselves. It's a high mark of honor that my niece believes in you enough to send you to me… she's trained many apprentices and she holds high standards. While her charges always meet our family at some point in their training, I've never been introduced to an apprentice so early in their classifications nor to one who has picked up on the subtleties of my methods so quickly."
"Was last night a test?" Hermione asked, thinking to the rather boisterous visit that she and Master Kallas' niece had made.
"If Diamantina had wanted me gone, she wouldn't have allowed us past the doorstep," Yiayia remarked, tossing her dark curls with a sniff. Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"Is that really true? Or did you simply decide to team up and search for information?" she asked seriously. Yiayia chuckled.
"Good question. I like your forthright nature. Truthfully, Ana and I always try to test her for our own amusement each time she takes on a new apprentice... I never turn down a creative challenge. But this is the first time she has ever chosen to capitulate. I tease her for her rules, but she adheres to them for a reason and despite our needling, we do respect them," Yiayia replied, sipping her coffee and making a satisfied sound. What does that even mean?
"Master Kallas said I am to learn from you," Hermione said softly, more to herself than to Yiayia. Again she was surprised when the other witch was quick to narrow her eyes in response.
"She did, did she?"
A moment later, the witch set down her teacup and waved a hand, a sly smile spreading itself over her expressive features. Hermione felt the telltale ripple of a non-verbal spell and looked to Yiayia questioningly.
"If you are to learn, I see no reason why we shouldn't start now. Nor why I should have to share my secrets with the universe," she said haughtily while dark eyebrows waggled suggestively.
Unable to stop herself, Hermione laughed, tension unwinding from her shoulders as Yiayia reclined back and somehow managed to make draping herself over the uncomfortable sofa look elegant.
"Dia sent you to me, Hermione darling… because I have a rather intuitive means of assessing others. It's a combination of skills that I have honed over the years that allow me to observe, assess, and eventually find means of compelling people to… see things from my perspective, as it were. A rather valuable art in the subtle worlds of Mastery societies, yes?"
Hermione nodded, transfixed.
This had been the portion of her training that she had looked forward to the least, but from what Yiayia was explaining… well, it seemed a bit more involved in a way that she found palatable. Etiquette and manners seemed so archaic and dry, but Yiayia seemed to be talking about the dynamics of power.
"Very well, darling…" Yiayia shifted and sat forward on the sofa, tossing her hands lightly and allowing her generous silk sleeves to settle elegantly. Clasping both hands in her lap, she fixed Hermione with an intense gaze before dropping her voice slightly.
"Let us begin."
A/N:
efxaristo - Thank you
anipsiá mou - my niece