He was excused from lessons that day on his mother's orders to transfigure appropriate clothes for Hermione to wear to the Unterhalb. It theory it shouldn't be difficult, he had researched and decided the easiest way to do it would actually be to charm one of his mother's potions skirts into a smaller one. He had an elf find one, then set about practicing the charm on quills, pots of ink... anything that wouldn't be missed.
It was easier than the bone healing charm and he had it mastered by mid morning. She arrived just as he managed to successfully shrink the skirt, fading into existence on his bed.
She sat up, blinked, then her face lit up in an excited grin.
'Floo!' She repeated the word he had taught her the day before. He nodded and passed her the skirt and the cloak she had worn the day before. She frowned at the new garment, then shuffled behind his screen to change.
A moment later she stepped out, performing a twirl for him to inspect. The skirt was slightly too long to be a children's skirt, brushing the floor, but it was better than flashing her legs at the world. The cloak looked very dark against the slightly worn and faded potion's skirt. She may not perhaps represent the Grindelwald family, but she wouldn't cause a scene.
He held out his arm to her, and she took his hand, swinging it down between them. He frowned, then lifted his arm again, gently taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow.
She laughed lightly, muttering something in English but at least leaving her hand where he had put it. He escorted her down the staircase and to the heavily warded floo room. His ring, worn about his neck on a silver chain until he reached 11, slotted into the keyhole and the doors swung open, granting them access to the massive fireplace beyond. He showed her the powder jar, then mimed throwing it to the ground.
'Unterhalb!' He said clearly, then pointed at her. She mimed picking up powder, throwing it down, then carefully pronounced the foreign word. He nodded, then took a handful of powder for real. He stepped into the fireplace and chucked the powder down, shouting the name of the Wizarding district.
The last thing he heard was Hermione's shriek of alarm over the roar of the fire. Then he was stepping smoothly out of the huge fire pit in the Unterhalb. Hermione was surprisingly quick behind him, he had expected her to spend several minutes preparing herself but she tumbled through before he'd even finished removing the soot from his robes. He performed the courtesy for her, then paused to let her take in the space.
Unterhalb was a massive cavern, so tall that one couldn't see the roof and too wide to make out the walls on either side. Nestled in the middle was the Wizarding district; the main square around the massive bonfire was lit by strings of coloured glass lanterns. A stage was built permanently on one side for the weekly dances and several eateries had benches and tables outside. The main street was wide enough for two carriages to drive abreast and lit by more lanterns. Wares from the shops spilled out onto the streets; barrels of potion ingredients, racks of clothing and displays of silvery instruments. Witches and wizards of all classes thronged the streets, dirty robed half blood families and those whose magic was too weak to earn a living made way for the finely dressed aristocracy. The ruling class of Germany, with their almost limitless power and associated wealth, the result of generations of wisdom and selective matches swanned through the street in glamorous dresses and fur cloaks, hats and gloves dripping with jewels.
His mother would have turned her nose up at them all. His family were the elite of the elite and she felt there was no need make a song and dance about it. People came to them, people didn't need to see them dressed like peacocks to know they were the ones to respect, fear and revere.
He nestled Hermione's hand back into the crook of his elbow and escorted her down the street. She seemed to understand without being told that she needed to not look so eager; once the initial amazement had worn off she kept her looks casual. He caught her staring at an owl once and peering surreptitiously into a barrel of fairy wings another time, but overall she managed to not look too much like the inexperienced Muggleborn that she was.
He went straight past the first clothes shop; Alterman's did excellent school uniforms and adult everyday robes but nothing suitable for younger children. There was a minor kerfuffle as a silver robed auror arrested a grubby wizard who'd been caught stealing bat eyes from the nearby apothecary. The ingredients spilled from his pockets and the auror's partner accio'd them all with quick wand movements before they could be spoiled on the dirty street.
He led Hermione away from the gawking crowd and into Frau Klemme's. The kindle witch recognised him and greeted him with a dip of the head. He half-bowed in acknowledgement and introduced Hermione. The witch tutted as she circled the girl, then instructed her to remove her cloak.
'Herr Grindelwald, we shall be a while. I don't suppose you would be good enough to fetch us all tea and pastries from Krier's?' He wasn't stupid enough to not know that she really wanted him out of the shop to get Hermione's measurements. It would be entirely inappropriate for him to stay whilst that was done. He headed across the street and the owner of the little bakery smiled up at him. He was a large wizard with a pristine white apron and gleaming bald patch. He chortled, perhaps having seen where he had come from.
'You'll be wanting a raspberry custard slice for Frau Klemme and tea I suppose?' He asked, already preparing a tray with the pastry and two more that Gellert pointed out. The kettle boiled instantly at a tap of the wizard's wand and cups and saucers floated out of the cupboard. The baker scooped milk out of an urn and poured it into a delicate cup.
'I'll just put it on her tab then.' The baker said, sliding the tray towards him. He pulled out his wand, tapping the tray and hovering it with great concentration across the street to Frau Klemme's.
Hermione was back in his mother's skirt, seated on a chair as Klemme showed her bolts of cloth. The young witch turned to him with a desperate expression, clearly far out of her depth as the woman chattered in German.
'Tea and cake, Frau.' He interrupted and she took the tray from the air, setting it on the side table.
'Impressive magic for one your age.' She complimented, 'but of course I should expect no less from a Grindelwald.'
He gave a short bow in thanks, then turned to the bolts of cloth that were already out.
'This would be nice for the formal.' He pointed to a navy silk with small white spots. 'Otherwise I believe this and this,' he pointed to a navy and a deep brown fabric, 'would be good. A full cloak and a hat as well if you please.'
She nodded, then brought out a sketch book. He shook his head immediately upon seeing the drawings.
'Petticoats, my mother believes this muggle fashion is foolish.' Hermione wandered up to take a look, her nose crinkling at the picture of a young girl crammed into a willowy dress with a protruding bustle. The seamstress nodded, and flicked through to a plainer dress with a calf length skirt. Hermione made a noise of appreciation, which was taken as an agreement by the older witch.
Gellert made a few other choices for her and they emerged out into the street again over an hour after they had arrived but Hermione was wearing the first of her new dresses. She looked very good with her hair braided and a black semi-formal dress. She still wore his fur hat and cloak and looked like a proper young witch.
They turned left at a junction, following a smaller street down to the market. He'd always liked this area, although his mother hated it. She called it a cess pit of the unsuccessful, he thought of it more like a melting pot of opportunities. The things that came up for sale here were always interesting; once he'd bought a pair of diaries that mirrored one another. Another time he'd bought a gourd full of basilisk venom from a vender who was convinced it was draught of despair. He also strongly suspected the poison that had killed his father had come from here.
Although, not everything sold here was dark, in fact most of it wasn't. The pace slowed to a crawl as they got held up behind a housewitch arguing with a vendor over the price of fish. It gave Hermione a chance to look around. The stall to their left held colour changing cloaks, the one two down next to the fish vendor offered magical seeds and the one opposite him had a wide variety of magical rodents.
He had noticed her wand stuffed down her sock, so he bought her a wrist holster. They passed a shop selling 'discount goods' which he knew to mean stolen and a second book stall. He managed to steer her past that one by refusing to translate any of the titles and a bribe of a shabby but beautifully illustrated original copy of beedle the bard in runes. She would need to learn runes anyway and he imagined this would be much more interesting than his own dry lessons.
He purchased the potions ingredients they were running low on, taking the opportunity to show each to Hermione. He pointed out how to check for a proper iridescent sheen on fairy wings and how the consistency of the slimy toad eggs could be used to determine age. There was a good deal on loch weeds and he managed to wheedle the shop keeper into selling snow-apple seeds to someone underage.
They wandered back to the bonfire square, then took a seat on one of the benches to eat lunch - steaming hot pies from the "Hexenkessel"; the pub where families traditionally gathered after pre-school shopping.
'Gellert?' Hermione asked quietly. He turned to look at her, noticing that she was nervously fiddling with her wand.
'What?' He asked.
'I think this is real.' She replied, he didn't understand the words and he repeated what was becoming their most common phrases to tell her so. 'I thought this was a dream but I woke up at home with the wand.'
He shrugged, still not understanding her and tossed the paper wrapper of his pie into the fire. She shrugged too, still obviously bothered but not able to convey her thoughts through the language barrier. His own English had improved massively since he met her, even in just a week. She tried to speak German as often as she could, which he appreciated, but her knowledge was limited and he suspected she had only recently begun learning. Her word order was shocking, her word endings almost always nonexistent. He hoped he had managed to teach her as much as she had taught him.
The floo journey home was even less painless, as he had no cause for concern. She knew what to expect and she could certainly be able to pronounce 'Blaue Burg' as they'd already discussed it at length, so he paid a Knut each for floo powder, hopped through and was followed a moment later by the young witch.
Klein, the head elf, met them at the doorway.
'Master Gellert, Klein is being here to introduce Mistress Hermione to her elf.' He bowed lowly to the two children; a very young elf in a fresh, crisp summer uniform stood behind him. It was a display of casual opulence that the Grindelwald family gave their vast number of elves uniforms and a comparatively cheap way to earn their undying loyalty; after all, what elf wouldn't want to work for a family who are not only influential but also provide excellent living conditions.
'I is Flighty, I is speaking English for Missy Hermione.' The little elf curtsied neatly. 'I is also speaking German for Master Gellert.' She added with another curtesy in his direction.
She really was small for an elf, much younger than any he had seen working before. As a long lived species, they usually had a long childhood and worked alongside their parents for many years before either being employed by their parent's family or setting out on their own. She spoke two languages though, unusual in and of itself, and if Klein had employed her she would certainly be excellent, after all his family were never struggling to find elves to employ.
He turned to Hermione, gesturing to the elf and explained as well as he could that the elf would be hers but she needed to complete the bonding ritual once she was ready. Thankfully, Flighty was there to fill in the gaps in his English and he had to resolve to not come to rely on the elf. He still needed to learn English himself.
Hermione had to leave on their way back upstairs, disappearing with her usual noiseless disapparition.