A/N: The "day" is almost over! I promise!
I've been writing out of order, so it might be a bit longer between the upcoming chapters. To be clear, all of our story has taken place over three days beginning on Sunday, Nov. 14, 1999. "Today" is finishing out - Tuesday the 16th and the emergency session of the ICW will convene "tomorrow" on Wednesday, the 17th. I anticipate the remainder of the coming "week" will be similarly jam-packed and then we'll start to move onward from there.
Enjoy!
Hermione trailed behind Master Kallas by just a half step, but even in her fatigue, she knew she was being cowardly.
The rain had abated somewhat though the streets had largely remained empty, and they had moved amongst the dark puddles quietly. Once again, Hermione had been thankful that neither she nor her master felt the need to fill the silence with conversation. The smell of fresh rain had provided a wave of comfort, and Master Kallas had seemed to understand her need for space.
Hermione had been happy to finally leave Anastos - not that the appointment had been unpleasant, but she had felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information she had absorbed in such a short time from both Yiayia and Ana respectively, and then… that unexpected argument she had witnessed that continued to burn in the back of her mind like a bad Forget-Me-Not charm.
Upon arriving to the jeweler's, Hermione had once again felt slightly oversensitized as she had been introduced to Madam Argyris, who Master Kallas had later confided was the matriarch of one of the five oldest Wizarding families in Athens. The small elderly witch had spoken no English and had greeted Master Kallas with a strange series of what Hermione had interpreted to be formal gestures, ending by kissing the top of her master's head as Master Kallas had practically bent over at the waist to allow it.
The wizened witch had quickly turned to Hermione and kissed both of her cheeks deliberately, smiling up at her through crinkled eyes as Master Kallas had rattled off a long string of Greek that made Hermione's head spin. They were joined shortly by the witch's three sons who bowed to Master Kallas reverently and quickly began jotting down notes as she flitted about the store, gazing at different stones shrewdly and pointing at different designs.
Hermione waited near the door, unsure of what to do, until it finally became clear that Master Kallas was in the process of negotiating the price. They had wrapped up shortly thereafter - Madam Argyris again appearing to bestow them with papery kisses while the three sons had kissed their hands respectively before escorting them to the door.
Wearily, Hermione had followed Master Kallas back into the silvery streets of the Pharmakeion - neither of them saying a word as they had both sighed in relief.
Her head ached - both literally and figuratively, but Hermione strove to remain collected as she followed - gazing down at the slippery cobblestones as she dutifully planted one foot in front of the other.
"Darling?"
The soft word made her look up abruptly and she saw that Master Kallas was gazing at her in concern. Blushing, Hermione took two steps forward in realizing she had fallen farther behind than she had thought.
"I'm sorry, Master," she muttered, somehow unable to hold the clear gaze for more than a moment. Guiltily, she heard her master's subtle sigh as they continued walking, however her anxiety melted slightly when she realized the elder witch wasn't going to pry.
They continued to walk in silence, while Hermione tried to puzzle through her conflicting thoughts and emotions.
What is with you? Earlier this morning you were mooning over her like a puppy… and now, just because you saw her upset, you're acting like a teenager. She's been upset with you before...
Briefly, her mind flashed to the strange scene in the alterations room just as Master Kallas had silenced her argument with Ana. Though Hermione had tried to keep her attention on Madam Anastos, she had glanced up once and immediately regretted doing so.
No, she had never seen Master Kallas upset like that...
Her master's anger had been chilling.
Hermione knew rationally, that Master Kallas was considered a powerful witch, but it was one thing to know and another thing to witness. The petite woman had seemed to absorb energy from the space around her, somehow becoming much larger and more terrible as she had glared Ana into trembling submission.
Even Master Kallas' features had seemed more beautiful and harsh as she had clearly given her niece a thorough dressing-down, and Hermione had felt a stab of fear at seeing the familiar face transformed into such an alien mask of cold fury.
She was so wrapped in her thoughts, that Hermione nearly face-planted as one tired foot caught the edge of an uneven stone and she flew forward in surprise. Her master's hand shot out an instant later, and Hermione found herself automatically turning to thank Master Kallas who easily caught her in one strong arm.
As she turned her head to the left, Hermione froze as her eyes unerringly caught the familiar seafoam gaze that had so recently narrowed and gazed at Ana with unfeeling anger. Their faces were close... mirroring similar expressions of surprise. Hermione's words of gratitude quickly died on her lips as her master's eyes revealed such expressive concern that nearly took her breath away.
How are these the same eyes?
Unexpectedly, her mind chose that moment to filter back to Yiayia's lecture about people. With surprise, Hermione realized she had never thought to analyze her own enigmatic master. Of course!
"Which house were you in?" Hermione blurted before thinking. Coming back to her surroundings with a start, she realized they were standing in the middle of a very public lane. Shit.
"Err… Which house were you in, Master?" she quickly amended respectfully, stepping back and squaring her shoulders in a way befitting of a Kallas apprentice. Master Kallas' brow was furrowed in confusion and she simply looked at Hermione for a long moment before offering her right arm.
Feeling no cause for hesitation, Hermione slid into place and they resumed their walk at a more meandering pace. Good. This is your master… you can work through this.
"I assume you speak of Hogwarts," Master Kallas stated softly, so much so that Hermione found herself leaning closer to hear her over the sounds of the street. Now that the rain had abated, the Pharmakeion had come back to life.
"You know I didn't attend your school, my apprentice." Hermione wrinkled her nose.
"I know. But I also know that you must have spent time there with Prof...er, Minerva, while you were apprenticing. You must have had some thoughts about the House system," she replied. Master Kallas chuckled lightly and Hermione felt a thread of tension unwind itself from the pit of her stomach.
"You are correct as usual. I lived there for six years and taught as a professor for five. Naturally, both Minerva and Albus wanted me to don the Sorting Hat the instant I finished my first classifications," Master Kallas said. From the strange tone of voice, Hermione glanced to the side and saw the witch smiling at the memory, her face a mix of amusement and sadness.
"And…?" she asked hopefully. The question earned her a brighter smile and Master Kallas moved her other hand to rub Hermione's forearm gently.
"What do you imagine it told me, Apprentice?" she asked coyly. Put out at having her question reversed, Hermione frowned. Which House would Master Kallas have belonged to?
"Well… from your intellect and interest in learning, I would have guessed Ravenclaw…" she began, thinking hard. "But you value knowledge that lies beyond textbooks and you certainly don't act like a Ravenclaw. You know how to put people at ease… you're incredibly loyal to those you hold close, but I don't know that you'd be a Hufflepuff either. You're courageous in how you face the world head on, but you're not impulsive like the rest of us in Gryffindor."
"A lot of how I behave is learned, darling," Master Kallas supplied quietly. The elder witch looked straight ahead and moved them to one side to avoid a rather large puddle boasting a few muddied pages from the Wizarding newspaper.
Hermione considered that bit of information. Her master was effortlessly composed. Cordial and warm with almost everyone she met, but it was rare that the witch actually revealed her true thoughts and feelings. If anything, she was decisive and cunning… Oh.
"You're Slytherin…" Hermione breathed in awe, knowing as soon as she said it that she was correct.
"Yes." The answer was curt and Hermione wondered if she had offended her master in her surprise. Another side glance confirmed that the witch's features were drawn into an impassive mask.
"I do think…" Hermione began, feeling the muscles under her hand tense slightly. "That you are perhaps the most pleasant Slytherin that I've ever met," she said honestly.
Master Kallas turned to look at her, a small smile gracing her lips. A moment later a shadow appeared to fall across her face and the witch sighed softly, shaking her head tiredly.
In the blue-ish light from the sky, Hermione noticed the beginnings of dark circles marring the smooth skin beneath almond-shaped eyes. She felt a soft sensation of curiosity at realizing it was the first time she had ever seen her master appearing anything other than effortlessly composed… and a moment later Hermione felt a swift rush of pride at being allowed to witness such a small glimpse of her humanity. The earlier moment in the alterations shop was forgotten, and Hermione found herself wanting to honor that frailty and to protect it fiercely.
She was so caught up in the abrupt flood of emotion that she almost didn't register the curious look her master gave her before continuing.
"I do understand your House system, Hermione… but I have never believed in it as ardently as many have wished," Master Kallas said softly. Hermione's heart stilled and she wasn't sure how she felt about the quiet statement.
Hogwarts had been - No, it was… her home in so many ways. Her whole entry into the Magical world had happened because of Hogwarts and Hermione's immediate response was to bristle at the perceived slight against it. However, knowing her master never cast judgment without forming a solid argument first, Hermione suspended her thoughts and waited patiently.
"You see, darling… before you arrived to the conclusion that the Sorting Hat did indeed place me into Slytherin, you first filtered through the attributes of all the other Houses and found aspects of my being that would have also served me well had I been sorted into them. However, all of those facets were also the first to be negated upon your realization that I was sorted into a House you find undesirable."
Hermione flushed at realizing her master was right.
"Your Hogwarts system is wonderful in that it provides students with an immediate community in which they will find others of similar interests, personalities, and characteristics. In particular, it is helpful to those who come from abroad, who are only children, who have been outcasts in their own families, or who are Muggle-born like yourself… these students find an instant network of people upon whom they can depend upon and who are celebrated for similar traits that they themselves possess."
"I…. I never thought about it that way," Hermione replied honestly. Being in Gryffindor had always been a badge of pride and honor, but more than that she realized her own feelings were mirrored by Master Kallas' words. Community… That's it!
Everything she had loved about Hogwarts stemmed from her companions.
Harry. Ron. Ginny… The majority of her friends had always been in Gryffindor, and Hermione had known without fail, that she could depend upon them to support and defend her without question and despite the occasional squabble… they were her people. That simple knowledge was anchoring and reassuring, and Hermione treasured the warmth and security that her House always provided.
Prior to arriving at Hogwarts, she had always been a loner - lost in school, too strange and obsessed with books to be interesting to her Muggle classmates, and too annoying and perplexing to have found company with anyone older.
All of that had dissolved following those first few harrowing minutes of sitting on the stool in the Great Hall while the Hat had deliberated between sending her to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.
While her first year had been an adjustment, after she had connected with Harry and Ron, Hermione had finally felt as though she had a family of sorts… people who were always excited and happy to hear how her academic achievements benefitted their whole, people who she could turn to with questions and who could turn to her in return.
In all her Gryffindor-ness and pride, Hermione realized that she had never thought to consider what she might have truly gained had she chosen Ravenclaw as the Hat had initially suggested, let alone Hufflepuff… or Slytherin.
With a jolt, Hermione suddenly became aware that now… in the course of her Apprenticeships she was indeed cultivating many of those other attributes that she would have once associated with other Houses…. Wisdom and knowledge from Ravenclaw. That was a given.
Perhaps loyalty, honesty, and patience from Hufflepuff... in the course of her relationship to Master Kallas.
And… yes, even you, the Princess of Gryffindor are learning about ambition, cunning, and subtlety from Slytherin.
Hermione felt her mouth fall slack slightly as once again, Master Kallas had effortlessly shifted the tectonic plates of her mind. Merlin's bollocks! Especially after that conversation with Yiayia… you really haven't given any thought to developing your other intelligences… you would have been happy to remain a posterchild for Gryffindor forever.
"Do you not consider yourself a Slytherin, then?" Hermione asked softly, wondering if her master felt pigeonholed in a manner similar to the feeling that was beginning to dawn upon herself.
Master Kallas didn't respond right away, instead choosing to tug upon her elbow and draw them down a narrow alleyway that Hermione hadn't even noticed.
"Yes and no," came the brisk reply a moment later. Hermione frowned at the evasion and opened her mouth to ask another question, before being brought up short by confusion. They paused at a dead end in front of a brick wall with peeling white paint and a few scratches of graffiti. What are we doing?
"I thought you might want a bite to eat after such a long day," Master Kallas said, full lips smiling knowingly as Hermione's puzzlement gave way into the realization that she was indeed quite hungry.
"Lefká krína," Master Kallas stated clearly, still looking at Hermione softly.
Immediately, the brick wall before them dissolved into an elegant pathway bordered by thin shoots of bamboo that were lit from below, creating a luminous natural green archway for them to walk beneath. The dirty, worn cobblestones of the alleyway were replaced by a smooth dark boardwalk, and Master Kallas pulled Hermione along gently, a small curve still gracing her lips.
Still admiring the remarkable change of scenery, Hermione was startled when she detected movement ahead of them. A young wizard in fitted black robes strode forward, and behind him Hermione noticed a darkened entryway and the telltale flicker of candlelight from within.
"Angliká," Master Kallas said swiftly before the young wizard could open his mouth. The man gave a swift nod in reply, opening a hand to indicate they should follow him.
"The usual table, Master?" he asked politely.
"That would be lovely, thank you Giorgios," Master Kallas replied.
As they passed through the darkened foyer, Hermione's eyes adjusted and realized they were an elegant and unexpectedly modern restaurant. Their host led them through an open area and past a beautiful and well-stocked bar, before turning around a corner and leading them up a sweeping staircase whose black glass steps seemed to be suspended by magic.
A moment later they arrived to another open room, this one with floor-to-ceiling walls opening to a breathtaking view of the Pharmakeion, Athens, and a distant view of the Acropolis.
"Oh!" Hermione gasped at the beautiful sight, feeling herself draw closer to the windows. Distantly, she heard Master Kallas chuckle and murmur a few words in Greek.
The sky was shifting to evening and the dark clouds that had poured over them earlier now hung in the distance… a deep, rolling contrast to the bright fleck of the Acropolis and the brightly colored rooftops spread beneath it. Immediately below, the Pharmakeion's torches seemed to burn like fairy lights, and with the dark ambiance, Hermione felt a pang of emotion as she gazed over the lovely sight that seemed to impress itself upon the room like a luminous backdrop.
"Come, my apprentice…" Master Kallas whispered over one shoulder, once again startling Hermione from her thoughts.
They sat at a table in a corner near the windows, angled so that Hermione could continue to appreciate the view. She had experienced a moment of confusion of looking about the restaurant and somehow being unable to focus on the other patrons who were sitting nearby. Master Kallas explained that there were a series of subtle privacy charms in effect, protecting identities and allowing everyone to enjoy their meal in peace.
"I do consider myself a Slytherin and I am proud of that fact," Master Kallas stated after a moment of gazing in silence.
Realizing her master was continuing their earlier conversation, Hermione stared at her evenly, willing the other witch to see her genuine curiosity rather than prejudice.
"Actually, it has just occurred to me that perhaps you are indeed right. Hogwarts does seem to place an unfortunate emphasis on House pride that does not lend itself toward inter-house unity," Hermione replied, letting her gaze slide as she thought hard. "In fact, if anything, unity and cooperation seem somewhat discouraged."
Master Kallas tilted her chin thoughtfully, as her gazed dropped to the tea lights twinkling between them. Her long lashes cast delicate shadows over her cheeks and she waited a moment before replying.
"I did not mean to cause you to question the system that raised you, darling. Hogwarts is an excellent school and the House system is indeed a helpful one. However, I had the advantage of coming from abroad and as a result, have never seemed to view it with the deferential nature that those from Great Britain tend to bestow upon it," Master Kallas said, plucking an empty wineglass from the table.
"It was also a challenging experience, as you might imagine, to suddenly belong to a House that possesses such a dark and complicated reputation within your culture. As an outsider from that respect, I also found myself seeing things in a different light."
Hermione felt a twinge of guilt at that.
Her own knowledge of Slytherin House was marred by people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. But as she gazed across the table, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how many other Slytherins would grow to become people as delicately nuanced and talented as Master Kallas… and who she might have inadvertently dismissed simply because of her own prejudices toward their house colors.
The elder witch twirled her empty glass for a moment and then drew it to her lips as it filled with wine. A moment later Master Kallas waved a hand at Hermione in a fluttering motion reminiscent of Yiayia.
"Concentrate on whatever it is that you would like to drink and it will come, darling," she explained.
Curious, Hermione plucked her own glass from the table and thought for a moment. Bizarrely, she found herself desiring a rather expensive highland malt whiskey she had once shared with the Weasley brothers during one of the celebrations after the Battle of Hogwarts. Now that had been a night to remember.
At once, her glass transformed into a tumbler and filled itself with a neat portion of amber liquid and a few crystalline ice cubes. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.
"Wow… that is…" she trailed off and frowned suspiciously. "How do they do that?"
Master Kallas laughed - a light, airy sound that rippled over Hermione's body from head to toe. She shivered slightly as the petite witch across from her looked at her fondly, eyes dancing in the candlelight.
"It's not Elves, if that's what you're worried about, darling… The Secret Garden is at the forefront of many innovations when it comes to mixing magic and gastronomy," Master Kallas purred, lifting her eyebrows slightly while taking another sip of wine.
Hermione made a mental note to reference which sort of enchantments could possible discern, identify, and replicate an individual's wishes with such immediacy. That had to be a mix of Charms, Transfiguration, and an impressive storeroom of ingredients. The implications were astounding.
Taking a sip of the whiskey, Hermione found her eyes closing in pleasure while her sinuses buzzed lightly with the first burst of smooth smoky notes hitting her tastebuds. Ohhh… that is sinfully good. As she opened her eyes, Hermione blushed at the soft expression of bemusement gracing her master's face.
"Will you tell me about your schooling?" Hermione asked quickly, attempting to return her glass to the table as demurely as possible. Smooth, girl.
Master Kallas' face quickly transformed from relaxed to pensive. Hermione's attention zeroed in upon the witch's full lips as she slowly wet them and then bit the bottom one. Her pulse jumped slightly, but fortunately her master didn't notice.
"Well… I began my schooling early as most affluent families in Athens do," Master Kallas said quietly. "I did not realize until much older how much of a privilege that was."
Hermione watched the play of emotions across Master Kallas' face, marveling at how the calm features managed to betray such a variety of micro-expressions.
"I was fortunate in that both the Kallas and the Kefalas families have always been the most liberal in their leanings… of the five Pureblood families in Athens, that is. Yiayia is actually a wonderful testament to the Kefalas name... It has always been a matriarchal family and is well known for producing witches of high caliber, even if they have been considered unorthodox at times. I feel very fortunate to have been provided with that example from a young age and to have been encouraged to follow it to whatever degree or passion that my heart desired."
"My mother arranged private tutors for my sister and I as children. There are less restrictions on underage magic than you have in Great Britain and as a result, I began Potion brewing as early as six and studying Arithmancy, History, Numerology, and Runes around age eight. Formal training, of course, begins at eleven as it does at Hogwarts… however, I continued with tutors until I was thirteen. Mother insisted that I remain in Greece to cultivate my cultural identity through the first two years of higher education."
"It seems she succeeded," Hermione said lightly, eyes flicking down toward Master Kallas' robes which held a slip of Greek key around the edges. Her mentor smiled.
"Indeed," she murmured, gazing out the window as she reminisced. "At the time, of course, I was quite incensed about it. All of my friends had told me stories of their schooling and I wished to join them… but in retrospect, those two years were some of the happiest years of my life."
Master Kallas paused and sipped her wine, leaving it on the table and clasping it in both hands. Hermione watched, transfixed as one thumb continued to rub the rim absently.
"My mother was a rather traditional witch despite having been borne into one of the least traditional wizarding families in Athens. My early memories of her are faint, but she took a personal hand in my education as soon as I had chosen a wand. Beyond the tutors, my mother ensured that I built a strong base in dueling and defense. We used to practice on Mount Zeus together on rainy days." Master Kallas smiled and bit her lip at the memory, shaking her head lightly before continuing.
"She also ensured that I knew my way around Muggle Athens. We would take day trips to see all the old archeological sites… she was fascinated with architecture - something she likely picked up from Yiayia along the way, but she was insistent that I learn about Muggle history, technology, and science… and she used to challenge me to see where non-magical innovation could be used for inspiration. She was always worried that I would grow up to use my magic gratuitously."
Hermione listened raptly, trying to imagine her illustrious master as a gawky eleven-year old learning about subways and telephones. Truthfully, she also felt a hint of envy. Imagine, to have had so much Magical knowledge freely given! It's no wonder she's such a powerful witch!
"After tutoring however… of course the time came where I had to choose a school."
At that, Hermione sat forward eagerly. Geographically, it would have made most sense for Master Kallas to have attended either Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, but she knew from other discussions that her master had not attended school in Europe.
"My family left me to my research, and to their simultaneous delight and dismay, I chose Uagadou."
"Oh! But…" Hermione felt her eyes glaze over as several points vied for precedence in her mind.
So many things made sense.
Master Kallas' proclivity for wandless magic was an immediate giveaway as were her overall Transfigurative abilities. Briefly, she wondered if the witch's immaculate appearance was as pulled together as it seemed, or if Master Kallas was constantly utilzing some sort of self-imposed enchantment.
A glance across the table made her pause. No, I think that's natural.
But self-transformation was a well-known Uagadou specialty from what Hermione had read, which meant…
"How have I never-? Honestly! Master, how do I not know what your Animagus is?" Hermione asked, suddenly irate with her own lack of knowledge.
A Cheshire cat smile spread itself over her Master's face and the witch sat back, watching Hermione from across the table with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Ah, but we are getting ahead of ourselves, darling," Master Kallas said lifting a long finger and waggling it mischievously. She shifted slightly and moved her glass to one side.
"As interesting and varied as our conversation is, we did come here to eat," she gestured for Hermione to move her glass. "Dinner works similarly to the drinks, though I encourage you to remain a bit more open-ended in your thoughts. The results here are always surprising and always excellent."
Hermione nodded dejectedly at the obvious, but relevant evasion as Master Kallas folded her hands and appeared to close her eyes and meditate.
"Do I ever get to know?"
The question burst from her lips before Hermione could stop it. Master Kallas opened her eyes and fixed her with a cool look. A lifted brow told her everything she needed to know. Damn. Okay okay…. Not now…
Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on dinner… but her mind could only focus on Master Kallas and her mystery Animagus… and then simply on Master Kallas. The way her hair somehow managed to retain a graceful wave before folding into an elegant twist. The curve of her lips. The way her thumb had moved over the wineglass… slowly, with the barest touch…
"You can open your eyes, darling."
The musical voice held a hint of a smile.
But I didn't choose…?
Oh.
Opening her eyes, Hermione fought not to react at looking down and seeing a beautifully plated assortment of Master Kallas' favorite foods. Actually, you like all of these things too, she thought with a smile, looking at her meal.
However a moment later, Hermione's smile widened at glancing across the table and noticing an elegant, if unmistakable slice of flourless chocolate cake resting to one side of her master's meal. A warm flush seemed to pass through her and outward and Hermione felt their bond thrum lightly with pleasure, like a violin string reverberating with a sweet note.
"Kalí órexi," Hermione murmured, keeping her eyes on her plate.
Their bond thrummed again but this time Hermione knew it wasn't from recognizing her favorite dessert.
Minerva sighed as the familiar tingle of alcohol anesthetized her tastebuds.
Her father would have been disappointed to see her drinking a such a lowbrow single-malt, but she couldn't rationalize breaking out a good bottle on a night like this.
Besides, you'll want to save it for after the conference, she thought wearily.
Setting down her glass, Minerva sighed again - this time in relief, as flick of her wand quickly divested her of her outermost robes. Another flick lowered the ambient torchlight and she settled upon the chesterfield and allowed her thoughts to wander.
Albus had not yet returned from their disagreement earlier and Minerva found that she appreciated the reprieve. There were enough concerns still looming around Hogwarts without her old friend's nagging, and she didn't have the luxury of unraveling worldwide problems until she was presented with further information. Besides, she had her own hunches… and everything in her intuition suggested that patience was the most prudent option for now.
However, it did always pay to be practical and Minerva had rearranged her schedule and those of her colleagues to the best of her ability, accounting for as many loose ends and potential outcomes as she could. But, as with all intricate webs balancing action and reaction, everything required an investment of time.
Time, old girl… is something of which you have precious little...
The Scotch burned as it hit the back of her throat, and Minerva stared into the flames of the fire as she considered the strange and winding course her life had taken. Who would have ever imagined that Minerva McGonagall, the most powerful witch of her age, would have remained in Great Britain? Far from the adventures she had been promised as a child, the offers she had been given as a young twenty-something witch... in the ruined path of so many past wars and conflicts.
Everything in her being simply wanted to rest and retreat to her small corner of the Highlands…
Away from the responsibilities and concerns of the school, the haunted eyes of children who had grown up too quickly…
Away from the darkness roiling on the horizon…
Another war? She couldn't. It was too much. She was too old and too tired…
She wanted to run away and simply… What? Grieve? Live?
Minerva scoffed at herself bitterly. What selfish thoughts. No, she was bound to her duties and the life she had built for herself. Regrets were not thoughts she entertained and foolish hopes were beyond her patience. Even her own.
As she reached for the glass, Minerva's fingers brushed the parchment bearing the note that had been returned with surprising immediacy. She plucked it deftly and let her eyes skim over the sweeping emerald script.
The conference tomorrow would surely be draining, but the brief meeting she had scheduled in the middle of the day might prove… unexpectedly enlightening.
Tiredly, Minerva took another sip of whiskey, letting the alcohol linger on her palate and dull her senses with its delicious burn.
The coming day would bring what it may, but for the moment, the Headmistress of Hogwarts was content to sit quietly and watch the flames. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
The villa felt larger and more silent than usual when they had finally returned late. The candles had lit themselves upon Master Kallas' demand, but without the typical warm welcome from either Eleni or Stelios, something felt… off.
They had both banished their more formal outer robes the instant the door had shut and Master Kallas had bid her an early evening, giving her light kiss on both cheeks before retreating to her chambers. Hermione tried not to feel disappointed by her master's departure, instead choosing to shuck off another layer of robes before wandering to the kitchen to sit and review her incredibly busy day.
Dinner had continued with greater ease and while neither of them had mentioned the argument in the alterations shop, Hermione had felt herself reconnecting to Master Kallas as they traded stories from their school years and beyond. She hadn't been surprised to learn that her master had won the Wizarding Schools Potions Championship as a sixth-year at Uagadou nor Transfiguration Today's Most Promising Newcomer Award following her first classifications with Minerva.
Distantly, Hermione had worried about making such strides herself, but quickly reminded herself that awards did not reveal the true measure of a person's knowledge and experience... and that she and Master Kallas had had drastically different experiences while in school.
Voldemort wasn't exactly an exemption she could cite on her résumé.
After dinner Master Kallas had offered to stop at the bookstore, but Hermione had admitted defeat at realizing how exhausted she felt. The walk home had been peaceful enough and the skies had calmed enough to paint the damp streets of the Pharmakeion in shades of rose.
Hermione stood in the kitchen and looked out the large bay windows toward the sea where the last vestiges of the sun were quickly disappearing beneath the water. Similar to the day before, she felt somewhat assaulted by the varied details of all the experiences that had presented themselves before her.
Brewing in the morning felt like an image from a distant dream as did her winding conversations with Yiayia. Connecting with Ana had been an unexpected accomplishment and Hermione was proud of herself for having forged the beginnings of what promised to be an entertaining, if somewhat tenuous friendship. Master Kallas had also given her a great deal to think about regarding Hogwarts and the system that had raised her.
Hermione sighed and scrubbed her face with a hand, everything in her body screaming at her to turn around and go to bed. If only her mind would simply shut itself off.
Outside on the terrace, Hermione noticed the dark shapes of several bowls and piles. With a start, she realized that in their haste, she and Eleni had never finished preparing the vegetables from yesterday… and that since the Elf was away on her master's business, their mess still remained. Well I can't just leave it...
Moving quietly, Hermione drifted across cool ceramic tiles in a dreamlike haze until she reached the sliding glass door to the terrace. Upon opening it, she sighed - the light sea breeze quickly entangled itself in her curls and made her shiver with its sharp chill as she stepped out onto the terrace.
A glance over the table indicated that the stasis charm had held and Hermione quickly whispered the counter-charm and began cleaning the area tiredly. Her master's voice echoed in the back of her mind… "A good potioneer never fails to conclude her practice without properly attending to her materials and space."
Yes, Master.
Hermione flicked her wand and quickly conjured a bowl full of hot soapy water to soak the knives, feeling a twinge of guilt for having left them uncleaned. Another flick brought a few containers to hold the vegetables before she banished them to the refrigerator.
While she waited for the knives to soak, Hermione patted the top of the table, squinting in the dim light to see if she had missed anything. Feeling nothing but newspaper, she experienced a moment of annoyance with herself as she realized she could fix the situation. Sometimes you're such a Muggle.
A moment later, a bright light sprang to the tip of her wand and Hermione gave the table another once over before starting to clean up the newspapers. Her mind was suspended somewhere, tiredly attending to the task at hand, but her senses perked up as she caught a small news story at the bottom of one of the pages, slightly surprised to see the English text.
Eleni kept copies of The Daily Prophet for her, but this appeared to be a page from an American newspaper. Hermione frowned at the headline - "Noted Archaeologist Disappears: The Search for Elizabeth Waterhouse."
Where have I heard that name?
Bringing her wand closer, Hermione squinted slightly as she read.
Nov. 16, 1999 - A search is underway for noted archaeologist, Elizabeth Waterhouse, who went missing yesterday while surveying a series of underground caves in Guatemala. The 54-year old American scientist has been a prolific voice amongst the circles of Central American archaeologists, having made a number of important contributions to the field in the last ten years. This past spring, Waterhouse was awarded Archaeologist of the Year by Current Archaeology. Guatemalan authorities said in a release that they are hopeful that the intrepid explorer is simply lost within the catacombs of the recently uncovered Mayan burial site, adding that Waterhouse and her team may have discovered the lost tomb of-
The rest of the article was missing.
Hermione flipped the page in frustration but the rest of the paper seemed to be elsewhere. She quickly scanned through the pages she had picked up and felt a strange sense of foreboding as a different article caught her eye, this one from the French Wizarding newspaper, Le Devin Quotidien.
"Break-In at the Library of Alexandria"
16 Nov., 1999 - Authorities at the world-renowned Library of Alexandria have indicated that there was an unauthorized shift of the warding around one in the morning Monday night in an obscure branch of the archives related to the documentation of Ancient Artifacts. Archivist Jemima Pendleton spoke with a Quotidien news reporter saying, "Well, nothing was disturbed or taken, I'll tell you that much. Whomever dropped by was clearly in the middle of a large research project... Several of our shelves were well-dusted when we arrived the next morning, and I've never seen such a well-rounded interest in cultures developed between the Middle Bronze and Archaic period." Local aurors have no suspects.
Hermione checked the dates of both articles, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the sea breeze. They both referenced events happening at similar times to the ISOS violations.
Suddenly wanting to be back in the familiar confines of the villa, Hermione quickly scooped up the remaining newspapers and her bowl and hurried indoors. Shutting the sliding glass door with her foot, she immediately felt better upon stepping into the warmer kitchen and the fresh scents of the villa.
Hermione ripped out both articles and quickly spread the remaining newspapers on the counter island, her eyes searching for any other mention of archaeology or ancient civilizations. She wasn't entirely sure what she was searching for - only that her intuition was pulsing from the previous two articles. Something was niggling at the back of her mind and she couldn't put a finger on it.
Unfortunately, the majority of the other pages were written in Greek and she was simply too tired and not well-versed enough in the foreign alphabet to manage any useful translations. Hermione ripped out one from Ekathimerini that had some mention of the Athens Museum and a photo of a few ancient tools, and another from the Wizarding newspaper that blinked and shifted between images taken from what appeared to be a temple somewhere in Asia.
You're being entirely paranoid… Strange things are happening all over the world all the time.
But still, as she cast the remaining newspapers into the recycling and padded back toward her rooms, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that the newspaper articles were connected to something much larger. She hurriedly tucked the pages into one of her books and headed for the bathroom, still shivering lightly despite the ambient warmth.
Flicking on the water, Hermione sighed and tried set aside her morbid thoughts.
Ignore your suspicions, she told herself while staring in the bathroom mirror. Her curls were limp and hanging about her face in a messy sort of halo. If you have them, surely others do as well. Maybe think about those theses you have to submit in less than a month!
Sighing, Hermione turned away and pulled her last set of robes overhead, taking moment to put a few drops of essential oil into the white claw bathtub.
Tomorrow began a new day with a condensed schedule and there were plenty of other things she needed to worry about beyond threats that didn't exist.
A/N:
lefká krína - white lilies
Angliká - English
kalí órexi - equivalent to bon appétit; "enjoy your meal"