Phew, I'm not happy with this chapter. It was immensely difficult to write but it needed to happen. There's some exciting stuff coming up!

Her mother had pulled out their best china for the occasion and Hermione quickly noted that her father was wearing his best jersey. Clearly her parents wanted to make a good impression on the new Lady Grindelwald.

She'd warned Anneken that the floo was precarious - her father had added some bricks to their little barbecue to help stabilise it and support it once he'd realised that would be the wixen's primary means of transportation but it was still disconcerting to arrive over a meter in the air and balanced precariously on a grill.

But it seemed her parents had also decided to gift her with an early Christmas present. With her father's hands wrapped around her eyes and her mother leading her by the hand, Hermione was taken out into the backyard. Frosty grass crunched beneath her feet as she stumbled off the patio and she guessed from the number of steps they took that they stopped at the bottom of the garden.

'Ready?' Her mother asked and Hermione nodded impatiently.

'Merry Christmas!' Her father bellowed, whipping his hands away from her eyes and leaving Hermione blinking in the bright winter sun.

The bottom of the garden had been transformed - gone was the little barbecue next to the shed, and it its place was a massive open fire pit, built up on a small plinth so that it could still be used as a barbecue.

'Now you have no excuse not to bring your friends over for tea.' Her mother crowed excitedly as Hermione stepped up onto the plinth. It was, she realised, easily big enough for her to travel with her trunk or even a friend and there was no longer any risk of the fireplace being moved accidentally and damaging the connection.

'I love it.' Hermione told her parents earnestly. 'I can't wait to use it.'

'You will be soon.' Her father pointed out with a grin. 'Now jump out of the way, Mrs Grindelwald will be arriving any moment.'

'She goes by Lady Krum, Dad.' Hermione reminded him, hopping down and standing between her parents to wait.

'Lady Krum, Lady Krum.' Her father repeated. 'And she's Katerina's...'

'They're not related... or, maybe they are distantly; it can be a bit confusing. But Lady Katerina has had to step down and Anneken is looking after the family for a bit.'

'We sent her a card, Richard.' Hermione's mother sounded exasperated. 'She was in an accident, remember?'

'Now really! You can't expect me to remember something like that off the top of my head.' Hermione's father grumbled good naturedly.

'I think I can, considering these women are Hermione's legal representatives in the magical world.' Jean Granger pressed. 'And they've been very kind to track down all those lost family homes for us.'

'Mum! Dad!' Hermione interrupted the budding spat. The fire had flared with emerald life, twirling up in a shower of sparks before solidifying into the elderly form of Hermione's favourite mentor.

'Hermione!' Anneken greeted warmly, clearly forgoing formalities in the presence of two muggles.

'Anneken!' Hermione replied, hugging the older witch as she stepped off the fireplace and looked around. 'Anneken, these are my parents; Richard and Jean Granger. Mum, Dad, this is Anneken Krum.

'A pleasure to meet you.' Her mother bobbed a quick curtesy and her father managed to bow without looking like a complete fool. Hermione considered it a success.

They headed inside quickly, all keen to escape the winter chill. Her parents already had a fire roaring in the living room and her mother had managed a considerably better batch of mince pies whilst Hermione was at the dance the night before. They'd already laid them out with a little pot of cream on a tray in the living room, so they were able to take their seats quickly.

'Thank you for letting me take Hermione with me for Yule. It really is an important time of year for wixen.' Anneken broke the silence as Hermione handed her a cup of tea. The elder witch took a polite sip and Hermione marvelled at how she hadn't even expressed surprise at the watery muggle rendition of the drink. Even school breakfasts at Hogwarts served the rich, loose leaf drink with thick cream that Hermione was used to from the past although she suspected that the other house tables might partake of the more modern brew with milk.

'She told us. Apparently you do some kind of ritual?'

'Yes. There's a ball as well, I believe. Attendance is unfortunately almost mandatory for up and coming young witches and I would hate for Hermione to miss it.'

'We're going to the ball again!' Hermione moaned in dismay. 'Is Lucius Malfoy hosting again?'

'The Malfoy family always hosts.' Anneken reminded her, stern tone softened by the understanding smile on her lips. 'And his awful father has finally given up the ghost, so its Lucius' first public event as the patriarch. It's sure to be the most opulent ball yet.'

Hermione groaned and buried her face into her knees.

'Hermione tells me you're a dress designer?' Her mother took up the baton of conversation, clinking her spoon down next to her half eaten mince pie.

Somehow, despite being one of the least fashion conscious people Hermione knew, her mother managed to remain engaged in a conversation on wizarding clothing for almost half an hour. Hermione's tea had long been drunk and she'd already had to brew a new pot by the time the decision was finally made to leave. Her father had already dragged Hermione's trunk down the stairs and Anneken easily levitated it out to the firepit.

'It will be a bit of a convoluted journey.' Anneken explained as she stepped up onto the firepit. 'Hermione's family estates - the Gorlois ones, that is, were all abandoned long before they invented floo powder so none of them have a connection. The only way to get to them is using the much older portals, but the one in Orkney is the only one that's active in Britain. We'll have to floo to my family's cottage then use the international port key there to travel to my birth family's estate in Germany and only then will we be close enough to a working portal to get to Orkney.'

'Golly.' Hermione's mother said, looking nervously at the firepit. 'Are you sure that's all safe for people like us?'

'Yes, yes. Jean, why don't you come with me and Hermione can take you, Richard?'

Hermione's mother climbed up onto the firepit, joining Anneken and Hermione's trunk. They had to squeeze right up next to each other to fit on and Anneken had to charm the trunk so that it wouldn't topple off. There was a flare of green light, a cry of 'Lavender Cottage' and suddenly the plinth was empty.

Hermione's father had gone quite pale.

'I still don't see why we couldn't just drive.' He muttered as they took their place.

'Because Orkney is an island.' Hermione drawled, unfolding the little packet of floo powder that Anneken had given her. 'Ready? Remember to keep your elbows in... Lavender Cottage!'

They were torn away from Hermione's childhood home in a blur of black, green and flashes of family homes. She kept a tight grip on her father's elbows, terrified that he'd somehow be spat out without the protection of magic.

He wasn't and they arrived just outside a quaint little seaside cottage on a chalky cliff. The older women were already waiting; Hermione's mother looked ill but determined, clutching onto a thick chain pendant with one hand. Anneken also had a hand on the pendant.

'Quickly quickly.' Anneken urged and Hermione pulled her father over, making sure his fingers were firmly wrapped around the chain. She grabbed it herself and Anneken checked her watch.

'Ten seconds.'

Anneken counted them down and the moment she reached zero the chain glowed brightly blue. There was a familiar uncomfortable tugging in Hermione's guts and suddenly they were lifting off the ground, spinning faster and faster. The world blurred around them, then they crashed into the soft powder-snow outside Fort Stark.

Hermione looked up immediately, inspecting the castle for any changes over the past century. It looked almost identical - one of the large cedar tree had fallen, and a young sapling had taken its place and there was a climbing plant growing over the west battlements. Otherwise, the place was the same and she found that reassuring when so much else had changed.

A house elf waited a short distance away, holding the reins of three creamy Granians and a glorious white one that Hermione assumed was Anneken's personal mount.

'Bloody hell.' Cursed Hermione's father as he realised what their next mode of travel would be.

'Pegasi!' Her mother gasped, delighted.

'Wixen don't use that term; Pegasus was a Granian like these but there are other winged horses. Abraxans are actually genetically closer to Sleipnir than they are to Granians and Longma and Thestrals are believed to share common ancestors with dragons.' Anneken ran her hands through her beast's fine mane as she explained to Hermione's mother.

They mounted up - Hermione's mother had taken riding lessons as a child, so only Richard Granger was left to clamber on like a sack of potatoes. Anneken took his reins and looped them around her saddle horn so that he only had to focus on hanging on as the beasts took off in a flurry of wings.

Hermione's mother loved it. Her face was alight with wonder as her hair whipped out of it's clips and she raised her hands to either side, allowing the Granian to follow the leader without guidance.

'This is incredible.' Jean Granger hollered to her daughter and Hermione grinned in reply. The young witch flexed her hand around the flight reins and her mount obediently swept lower, her mother's following her down so that they skimmed the branches, leaves bending and twirling in the current of their passing.

All too soon they were setting down next to the portals. Her father looked as miserable as her mother looked happy and he actually moaned in dismay when Anneken told him that they would be flying further on the other side of the portal. As the older witch opened it, Hermione reminded her parents to keep their eyes shut and hang on.

The portal journey was as brutal as ever, but they emerged into the thick snow of Orkney quickly.

It was gloomy, despite being early afternoon. At this high latitude the sun would only be above the horizon for a couple of hours more. Her father tumbled from his mount to empty the contents of his stomach at the base of the nearest standing stone as soon as they were through. Gorlois appeared just as he was kicking snow over the mess he'd made.

'Lady Hermione.' Gorlois greeted with a deep bow. 'It is a pleasure to meet you in this time.'

'Mum, Dad, this is Lord Gorlois. He's a magical guardian.' Hermione introduced, 'he looks after this place.'

'A pleasure to meet you, Lord Gorlois.' Hermione's mother dipped her head in an imitation of the way Gorlois had dipped his.

'And you...'

'Jean, and this is my husband; Richard.'

'A pleasure, Lady Jean and Sir Richard. Your daughter is a powerful witch and we are glad to have her continue the line.'

'Ooh... Sir Richard. That's worth the journey.' Her father croaked, still leaning against the standing stone to regain his bearings. Hermione's mother scowled at him.

'Lady Krum said that there was an old family estate here?' Hermione's mother asked after a moment of peering across the blanket of snow. Despite knowing the location of the barrow, Hermione could barely make out the mound in the otherwise white scene. The cairns that led the way were little hummocks which trailed down to the larger hump like a trail of ducklings following a mother goose. From the larger mound, another trail of small mounds split off to head down to the coldly glittering sea. The beach was a band of startlingly dark rock and the massive ritual circle was a ring of jagged teeth.

'There are many estates belonging to the family, but this was our barrow - our last stronghold. There was once a tower just up the coast but it was destroyed when Melehan died.' As he spoke, Gorlois led the way over the snow, forging a track for them to follow. The granians stepped reluctantly through the thick covering after him, sinking up to their knees with every pace.

Her father had always been passionate about Arthurian legend and he seemed to gain a spring into his step at he followed right behind Gorlois.

Hermione couldn't hear his questions over the crunching of snow and jingle of harness but they maintained conversation all the way to the barrow and by the time they finally dismounted, her father was quizzing the guardian on the significance of a sword's name.

They dismounted, dropping the reins of their mounts. The well trained beasts would stay exactly in place, unless spooked and Hermione knew that once they were downstairs one of the skeletal guards would come out to tend to them - hopefully without a bowl of blue paint.

A tunnel had been dug into the snow like the entrance to an igloo; tall enough to walk though, although her father and Anneken had to bend over slightly. They shuffled through, then had to drop to their knees to crawl through the stone tunnel. She could almost feel her father's excitement behind her as they emerged into the gloomy cavern. The two skeletons clacked in excitement, as they always did when she emerged and she smiled to both of them in greeting, still not comfortable with shaking their hands.

'It's like Lord of the Rings.' Her father muttered as he climbed to his feet, dusting off his knees and looking around with interest. Hermione had visited in winter before, but the cave was still stunning in it's icy glory. The snow filtered the light coming through the vents to a ghostly blue and massive icicles hung from invisible faults in the roof and refracted the light across the carvings in splashes of rainbow.

Coming down the staircase, it was like nothing had changed. She spent every morning during term time at the Barrow, taking classes from her ancestors so she was intimately familiar with the subterranean building. The various storage rooms had all been rearranged, but that was a regular occurrence so it was unsurprising. Gorlois took them to the large end room where several carved wooden chairs surrounded an ornate, circular stone table. He rolled out a distorted a remarkably accurate map of the British isles, when one considered that the sooth velum was almost a millennium and a half old. There was a distinctive depiction of the Thames and the artist seemed to have misjudged the size of the east coast, which made the island look rather wide before narrowing significantly at a point marked 'Hadrian's Wall.' Scotland, by contrast, was almost perfect as was Wales and Ireland was a squiggly blob with a couple of towns drawn along the coast. Gorlois marked Orkney with a piece of charcoal.

'I do not know how much you know of us, of how much Hermione has told you.' Gorlois stated, leaning over the table. Hermione was reminded sharply of King Arthur's round table and wondered who had come up with the idea first. 'Magic was different when I was alive. We didn't have wands so even simple spells were very difficult, so most wixen relied on potions and ritual. I learned of the Sect bond from one of the fey, and performed it with members of my family and several of our family's magical servants. We learned quickly that we could use the Sect bond to perform magic that would usually take hours of ritual casting in moments. Then Merlin appeared; he was a dark wizard who used to trap souls in his staff and forced them to help him cast. He saw that our sect was his only threat, so he bewitched the muggle king to become obsessed with Igraine; my wife.' Gorlois' eyes drifted to the tapestry on the far wall. Hermione had always assumed that it was an imagined image of valour, but now she noticed that the king was obviously the villain and that he was stealing the brown haired woman rather than rescuing her. The shadowy wizard that followed was wielding a silvery staff topped with a skull and obviously represented Merlin whilst the sea serpent with golden scales was perhaps meant to be something that had once defended the Gorlois family.

'He went to war with us, and I was killed. But Orkney was always our stronghold and my daughters returned here. Morgause inherited the Sect and married Lot, who was King here, then passed the title onto Morgana when she received guardianship of Avalon from the Fey. Morgana used the Sect's power to create a sanctuary in Avalon whilst Mordred; Morgause's strongest son, approached Arthur who was the son of my wife and the bewitched muggle king.'

'King Arthur, and Uther?' Hermione's father confirmed, rapt.

'Yes. King Arthur. Arthur was fair; he returned Tintagel to our family and took Mordred as a knight, along with several of his brothers. But then Merlin returned, and he realised that he had not defeated the Gorlois sect, merely forced us to retreat to Orkney again. He attempted to assassinate Mordred and enslave him in his staff but Mordred fled back to Avalon. Merlin convinced Arthur that King Lot of Orkney was a threat and Arthur marched north to fight us.'

Gorlois sighed heavily and crossed off two of the castles on the map using his stick of charcoal.

'Morgana passed off the Sect to Mordred and he took the throne of Breton in Arthur's absence. Even the bewitchment couldn't keep Arthur from continuing to Orkney then and when he returned to Camelot, Mordred used the Sect to destroy his army so that they could never march on Orkney again. Mordred held onto the throne for a couple of years before Merlin managed to kill him and took over Camelot, so Morgana channeled the power of the ley lines to level the entire city in the hopes of stopping him before he became powerful. She burned herself up in the process, but didn't manage to kill Merlin. In the end it was Nimue, whom Merlin believed to be in love with him, who managed to assassinate him.'

Gorlois crossed off a large city, labelled in Runes as Camelot which had once stood on Salisbury Plain, next to... Stonehenge.

'Wow.' Her father breathed and Hermione couldn't help but agree. It was a very different story to the Arthurian legend that still survived and much messier and less valourous. Both sides were dark and bloody and even after all that fighting and death, nobody won.

'You shouldn't forget...' Anneken interrupted, her eyes glacial, 'what happened afterwards. In this war, thousands of muggles were killed fighting titans. King Arthur's wife built an army to destroy every remnant of the wizards who had decimated Breton. She marched on Orkney first, killing every magical being in her way and began the witch hunts. Wixen were forced into hiding; most didn't have the power to do more than light a candle but they were slaughtered by the thousand.'

'We tried to protect the muggles.' Gorlois growled. The swirling marks which decorated his skin glowed dangerously, seeming to react to his anger.

'No. You tried to protect yourselves and your superiority and the muggles became pawns in the power struggle between wixen...'

'Stop!' Hermione interrupted, jumping up from her seat and slamming her hands down on the table. Sparks shot from her fingers like miniature fireworks and everyone in the room fell silent. 'Mistakes were made but it is easy to judge with the benefit of hindsight and we don't know that they won't be saying something similar about us in a millennium.'

There was a moment of silence whilst Anneken glared at Gorlois and the ancient patriarch stared back. Her parent's eyes were fixed firmly away from the two combatants. Then Anneken nodded and returned to her seat and Gorlois relaxed his aggressive stance, picking up his stick of charcoal again.

'We are here to let my parents know where the family estates stand, and to add their blood to the wardstone should they ever need to seek refuge.' Hermione jabbed her finger towards the map. 'The barrows are here, you can get a ferry to the island but you'll need to walk down to here. Avalon is unplottable and inaccessible for now, but we are working on reopening it.'

'There is a ruin; Dun Rannoch.' Gorlois continued, glancing at a sheet of parchment covered in Lord Nott's tight scrawl. 'It is built close to one of your muggle roads and the wards still stand. Lord Nott has organised for the orchards that used to supply it to be harvested, which should provide more than enough funds to rebuild and renovate the tower should you desire. Kellewik is a small tower here, which we believe to be structurally sound but only minimally warded. It was primarily a farm and again, Lord Nott believes that he can get it harvested and producing again.'

'The goblins are working on collating the family wealth but early estimates suggest that there is more than enough to create a safe house in London that you could use. Wizarding Britain has just emerged from a war but the signs suggest that it might not be as over as we believed. Hermione will undoubtedly be a valuable player but with the sect behind her she is almost untouchable; you are more vulnerable however and we want you to have somewhere safe to stay.'

Her parents shared a look and Hermione repressed her sigh; she'd been very careful to keep her parents in the dark about the dangers of the wizarding world and Anneken had gone and blown that to pieces already.

'It's not as bad as it sounds.' Hermione assured hastily, 'it's just a precaution because we want to be ahead of the game if something does happen.'

'Something is going to happen.' Anneken countered, ignoring Hermione's scowl. 'I lost my own son in a war, so I won't lie to you. Hermione will always be a target; rarely is a wixen born with her power. From the minute her magic manifested, Hermione was destined to play a major role in this war; the only question was which side she would fight for.'

'I'm not fighting for any side.' Hermione added with a scowl. 'Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic enforce a systematic oppression of religion and name anything they don't understand and can't control under the illegal banner of dark magic. They force everyone to use wands because it means they can track spells that we cast and remove our ability if they don't like what we do and they stunt our natural magic in the process. Voldemort promotes a use of magic without consequence and the elitist supremacy of a select few by virtue of birth rather than ability, with the enslavement of everyone considered unworthy under the guise of returning to the old ways. He is nothing but a charismatic megalomaniac.'

'And there you have it. Hermione will make her own faction in this war; it is our responsibility as adults to support and protect her.' Anneken leaned forwards, 'and that includes protecting you.'

There was a moment of silence as her parents looked at one another, seeming to share a non-verbal conversation.

'I'm not sure about this. We don't want Hermione used as the figurehead for your revolution.' Her father finally announced, folding her arms across his chest firmly. Her mother's hand landed protectively on her shoulder and Hermione shrugged it off in annoyance.

'I doubt Hermione would allow herself to be anyone's figurehead.' Anneken pointed out.

'Of course not, my children are not born to follow.' Gorlois scoffed, almost forgotten at his end of the table. Anneken flashed a dark look in his direction.

'I lost my son to war, I do not intend to become involved in another but Hermione's vision is one that I intend to see come to fruition. This is her fight, and already she is gathering support and sympathy throughout every level of our society. I couldn't stop her if I tried.'

'She's right, Richard.' Hermione's mother sighed, her free hand dropping to her husband's arm. 'Hermione knows what is right and we taught her to stand up for what she believes in. All we can do is protect and support her, and if we need a magical safe house to do so then we shall build a magical safe house.'

'It does sound like you wizards need a bit of sense knocked into you.' Her father mused. 'A safe house it is... but if any harm comes to my girl, I'll make the witch hunts look like hide and seek.'

'Thanks, Dad!' Hermione embraced her father eagerly. She hadn't wanted to tell them about what was going on, but now that they knew and approved it was like someone had cast a cheering charm on her. She felt all light and bubbly.

'But we're buying you an owl. I want weekly updates on your plotting so that we can make sure you're not doing anything too dangerous.' Her mother joined in on the hug. 'But I think you're very brave, and I'm glad you're doing what is right.'

There was little left to cover after that and her parents were going to be apparated to Edinburgh to catch the plane to the holiday that Lord Nott had organised for them. They'd spent so long arguing about the safe house that Hermione only had minutes to say her goodbyes before Anneken was popping away and she was left alone at the Barrow.