The ship was finished.

It gleamed. The hull was a deep, dark blue and it was accented in glossy crimson. The name of the vessel scrolled across the back in crisp golden lettering and sails were creamy canvas. They hadn't managed to restore most of the cargo, but the hold was filled with fresh food and water and all traces of sand and sea life had been magically scoured. To someone not in the know, the ship could have been launched only days before.

He had known that was the plan from the moment Hermione emerged from his mother's study and it was to put the muggles in tents whilst they refloated the ship, then send them off with no more contact than necessary.

So he had no idea why Hermione was carving runes into the ship, up every frame and post of the captain's cabin. Mordred worked with a small chisel and hammer, carving the shapes whilst Hermione followed behind with a paintbrush and a couple of tins of brightly coloured paint, decorating the string of runes until they looked like illuminated manuscripts. As if the plain carvings weren't enough to draw attention.

'What are you doing?' He hissed in outrage, staring helplessly around the small room. The duo had already decorated four of the six frames, and dark ink marked out where they would work on the rest.

'It's a protection ward.' Hermione informed him, biting her tongue between her teeth as she drew a line of bright white paint along the deepest groove of an interlocking swirl. She stuck the brush in her mouth, then used another to colour in a large patch of deep blue.

'The whole point was that they wouldn't have any proof.' Gellert moaned in dismay.

'It's not proof.' Hermione shrugged. 'The muggles don't know this is magic. They think it's just Scottish art.'

'But it is magic. I can feel it.' Gellert insisted. He had no idea how Hermione had done it, but whatever it was mixed into the paint was incredibly magically potent. He hadn't even noticed her using the potion's lab.

'The muggles can't. You need magic to feel magic.' The young witch rolled her eyes, then leaned away from her artwork and inspected it with a critical eye. 'What do you think; should I put a dog or a fish here?'

'Dog.' Mordred decided after a moment of critical inspection. 'Or one of these ones.' He pointed to a fantastical serpent with a dog's head in one of her earlier paintings. Hermione hummed and started on a twisting tail with an emerald paint. She was quite good, and he wondered if she'd always had such a steady hand or if it was a result of her practice with runes.

Then he remembered that he was still annoyed with her.

'We already shouldn't be helping them, and now you're leaving lasting proof that we have?'

'Who is going to find out?' Hermione waved her brush dismissively.

'I don't know; the ICW, whose job it is to check for things like this?'

'The ICW will never know. There's millions of muggles, thousands of ships. Even if the ICW did find it, it's hardly going to be linked to us. The ship will be miles away in a different country.'

She was right of course, but that didn't make it any better. It was blatant disregard for the law and it terrified him.

The ICW were power hungry progressionists who resented the lack of absolute control and influence that they had with their ministries in countries with covens. For centuries the German people had brought their concerns to the Grindelwald family, who had passed judgement and made rulings and even after the Ministry had formed their own courts. In fact, until his father had broken the law, Ministry court rulings had been largely ignored unless they were ratified by the Grindelwalds. So he could guarantee that if Hermione was caught breaking the statute of secrecy, the ICW would take great pleasure in dragging her before the full court to make an example of despite the benevolent nature of her ideas.

He tried desperately to explain this to her but she just laughed it off and waved him away. He left reluctantly and went to find Berg to complain.

His fellow wizard was, as usual, in the library.

The library at Hexemeer was designed to be a warm, cosy retreat for when the summer storms hit the island and the open, exposed designs of the other rooms became too much. It was quite small and a roaring fire burned in the grate, surrounded by comfortable armchairs on a thick rug. Berg was curled up in one of the chairs with a thick book and one of Hermione's self inking quills tucked behind his ear. His hair, which had grown long since his parent's murder, was tied at the nape of his neck with one of Hermione's poison green ribbons.

He dropped into the opposite chair and complained thoroughly. Berg was a good listener, and he waited until he was certain that Gellert had finished patiently.

'You know, I find Mordred very interesting.' The Tunninger heir finally said, throwing Gellert's thoughts from his stewing anger completely.

'Mordred?' He questioned.

'Yes. You see, I've been reading the history books - or perhaps story books is more accurate. Most modern historians seem to believe that the Gorlois family was just a story, created later because at the time wizards were not advanced enough to perform the feats in the older stories. Of course, we know they're real, and we know that they are unbelievably powerful.' Berg lifted his book, which Gellert realised was an ancient looking tome and if the embossed knight and dragon on the cover were any indication, it was indeed a story book.

'This is the oldest account that I've found, and from what we know it appears to be the most accurate.'

'And?' Gellert asked curiously, completely distracted from his ire at Hermione.

'He seems friendly enough; loyal to Hermione at least. But he was ruthless then - here, he cursed the fens with a dark spell because there was a wizarding family there that supported Merlin and they were sheltering his army. It decimated the land, poisoned the water and killed thousands, and he didn't remove the curse until the wizards swore fealty to his family.'

'That's...' Gellert hesitated. 'But it was war, right?'

'That time, yes. But earlier when he took the throne, he sent the knight's children to his sister in Avalon to hold hostage. Morgana was no better - she cursed an entire village with the bubonic plague because their ruling lord was caught taking bribes.'

'Circe.' Gellert swore. 'Mordred doesn't seem like the kind of person...'

'Really? I think he does. I get a sense of volatility about him.'

Gellert cocked his head, not quite understanding what Berg was saying.

'It's just something deep in here that warns me to be cautious; to tread carefully. I think it's my magic.' Berg jabbed his chest, right below his sternum and Gellert brushed the same spot on his own chest. He'd never felt anything there around Mordred, except perhaps pain that time that Hermione had thwacked him there with a sword during one of their lessons.

He asked if Berg felt that feeling with anyone else, or at any other time. The boy shifted nervously and Gellert read the answer from his face.

'Me?' He asked. Berg nodded without meeting his eyes and Gellert leaned back in his chair, thoughts buzzing. He didn't consider himself volatile, in fact that assessment rubbed him up the wrong way a little, particularly when he's spent the past term settling disputes and keeping the peace. Hermione, with her powerful wild magic and complete disregard for rules and slightly vengeful sense of justice was more volatile than he was.

So perhaps it wasn't a volatility that Berg was feeling, but rather the mark of dark magic. His mother had told him that murder would damage his soul, and he had killed Livius Lucan. From what Berg was saying, Mordred had killed hundreds.

Had the Solstice ritual fixed that, or was he still tainted? Would he be forever tainted?

'Are you ready for tonight?' Berg asked, and all of Gellert's ire at Hermione came rushing back.

'No! Hermione...'

'Take it up with your mother.' Berg interrupted, holding up a hand. 'She's the only one with a chance of stopping Hermione.'

Gellert hesitated. Berg was right, his mother would be able to stop Hermione but telling her would almost certainly get his sister in trouble. Then again, his mother was incredibly unpredictable when it came to Hermione. He jumped up resolutely and left the library.

His mother spent most of her time in the panoramic study at the top of the lighthouse. Gellert could count on one hand the number of times he'd been inside. Unlike Hermione, he didn't just barge in, he knocked and then waited for his mother's sharp call to enter.

She sat at her desk as he clambered up the steep staircase and he felt her eyes burning into him. He doubted Hermione felt like this, or she wouldn't spend so much time in here.

The lighthouse commanded a spectacular view of the island; he could see everything that was happening, from the grazing cattle to the muggle tents to the gleaming ship that floated just inside the ring of rocks. His mother's desk was situated just below the massive witchlight that should warn the muggles away from the treacherous cliffs.

'What is it, Gellert?' His mother asked. She'd just set aside her quill from a book of accounts and the ink still gleamed. He hesitated, wondering again whether his mother's rage would hurt Hermione and if he was about to betray her trust. His eyes must have flickered to the window which framed the ship because his mother sighed heavily.

'What is she doing now?'

'Carving protective enchantments into the sides of the ship.' He replied quickly.

'Runes? Oh, of course its runes. Please tell me she had the sense to hide them at least?'

'She's painting them. She says the muggles will think it's just decorations.' He said, a sneaking suspicion tingling in the back of his mind.

'Interesting. I suppose they would look like that if you didn't understand them. So blatant that nobody would think to question it, I suppose.' His mother smiled slightly; just the corner of her lips twitching up as she glanced towards the ship.

'But it's breaking the law!' Gellert spluttered, shocked. 'If anyone finds out...'

'Gellert.' His mother interrupted. He fell silent immediately, his hands clasping behind his back in a formal stance. 'What is our family duty?'

'To protect the people.' He replied quickly and easily. He'd reminded himself of that every time he'd gone to the bonfire during Livius Lucan's terror, and it had been a constant mantra during the revolution.

'Exactly; to protect people. Is that not what Hermione is doing?'

'Yes, but it's illegal.' He protested again, feeling like nobody was understanding his point.

'And Hermione is a Grindelwald. We do not let the laws of some weak, bureaucratic ministry stop us from doing what is right.' His mother stood suddenly, her staff flying across the room to her hand.

'That mentality can justify anything.' Gellert bit his tongue too late to stop the comment but to his surprise his mother didn't strike him with her staff, although she was certainly within range. Instead, her mouth twitched into that almost smile again.

'It can, which is why we need laws to be our guidelines.' This time she did reach out with the staff and she tapped the purple crystal against his chest, right over his heart. 'Hermione's heart is strong and true; if you lose your own, borrow hers to show you the way.'