Grecian Philosophy

Chapter 1, in which we meet Miss Hermione Granger, and Miss Hessia Gennakias

While it was almost too much to think that anything like this could possibly happen to her, Hermione Granger still sat, thinking, at the right of the tombstone. Tears had been used up, crying was no longer a release, and grief that had been present for what seemed too long was no longer felt. She was numb, painless, without hunger, thirst, or any other feeling. She had not eaten for four days, since the morning they left. Sleep had eluded her, and it showed, judging by the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair, normally such an important part of her toilette, was unkempt and bushy. Her whole life was worthless now. With her parents gone, there went the last connection she had to this earth.

The war had taken the lives of her friends; Harry, Ron, Sirius, Remus, the whole Weasley family, were all gone. All of them had died in the line of duty in the war against Voldemort. The Order of the Phoenix was nonexistent, not because Voldemort had won the war, but because they had all been killed, executed as examples to the Wizarding world that Voldemort would crush all who were against him, and could. Hermione had somehow managed to evade capture, and sought refuge in the Muggle world, at her parents' home. She hoped that Voldemort's reach would not be able to extend that far into the Muggle world.

Within four months after moving in with her parents, they were dead. Hermione knew it was the work of the Death Eaters, but she realized she shouldn't stick around to find out. She needed someplace remote, with little connection to the rest of the Muggle world, and no connection to the Wizarding world. She chose the Grecian isle of Kastro, a small, remote haven, where the only way to get to it was by boat. She made up a new life for herself. She became Hessia Gennakias, a painter of Grecian descent, who had moved to the small island to reconnect with her ancestry and paint.

Hermione strolled down the cobblestone road toward the town. It was her weekly ritual, going into the village to buy the week's groceries. It had been four years since she had come to Kastro, and the little cottage she lived in on the other side of the island from the village was quiet and solitary, just as she wished it to be. Hermione's hair was blonder, from too much exposure to the sun. Her features had been deepened, a consequence of her grief over the loss of her family and friends. She was darker skinned, from sitting in the sun painting or reading. She had not used her wand since her parents had died, but still kept it under a loose floorboard in her bedroom, along with all her old school books. She was determined not to read them, not to think of them, not to associate herself with the Wizarding world, since it had taken her life away. Instead, she read the ancient writings of the Greek philosophers, and studied Greek mythology. She used the stories of the Greek gods as inspirations for her paintings. Every week, when she would go into the village for food, she would take her finished art and sell it to provide the money she would need for groceries. She had live this way for the past four years, and she had come to like it.

After stopping in at the little gift shop that she sold her paintings to, she headed down the lane towards the market. Mentally, she was going over her list of things to buy. Corn, flour, butter, milk, maybe some fruits. As she was compiling her list, her thoughts were interrupted by someone calling her name.

"Miss Gennakias?"

Hermione turned at the sound of her name. "Hello, Nicky," she greeted, recognizing the young teenager who had called her. "How are you?"

The boy smiled. "Fine, thank you, ma'am." He was a strapping young lad of sixteen, who had already completed his school years and was now helping his father and uncle, the harbor masters, in their office. "I have a letter for you."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise. "For me? Who is it from?"

Nicky shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Some man came to the office, asking to have the letter given to you."

"What did he look like?" inquired Hermione.

"A little strange if you asked me," replied Nicky. "He was tall, very blonde, very light skinned. He was wearing what looked like a long, loose robe. Definitely a foreigner, but not the tourist type, y'know?"

"Yes. That's quite peculiar, Nicky. Well, I really must go finish shopping." She took the letter from Nicky's outstretched hand and smiled at him. "Thank you for my letter. I will see you next week, Nicky."

"I look forward to it, Miss Gennakias," replied the young teen.

Hermione stuffed the envelope in her pocket and resolved to hurry through her shopping so she could read the letter in the privacy of her own cottage.