The first family arrived within hours of the newspaper article being published. A witch with three children, all younger than Durmstrang age. Gellert helped his mother open the warrens that evening and an army of elves bustled through, lifting stasis charms and preparing rooms. It would be his responsibility to situate everyone as they arrived.

Herr Tunninger's wife pulled out a thick book, verifying everyone's identities as they arrived and assigning them tunnel and room numbers. At first it was just Gellert guiding people through the damp grotto entrance and down into the deep honeycomb of tunnels that burrowed beneath the castle. As other coven families arrived, their children joined him, relieving the pressure of the number of arrivals now flocking to the gates.

Every time he emerged from the warrens, something had changed. Those that had arrived first were setting up the massive fire pit and dining tables where the lower garden had once been. The walled garden had become a paddock for livestock, the water garden a temporary corral for mounts. Light sparked across the sky as the wards were reinforced by the coven, lighting the night like fireworks.

Fear thickened the air, tinged by excitement as the humdrum of daily life was interrupted by the call to the castle. It had been almost six years since the general citizens of wizarding Germany had been called to the castle for protection. He knew that in France, the Delacour family would be doing the same in their chateaux, the Dolohovs in Russia would have opened their cave-like mountain home and the less fortunate would be fleeing to hide behind ancient, powerful wards. Pride lightened his steps, allowing him to keep making trip up and down the many flights of stairs. It was the responsibility of his family to protect the general public, he was the heir to the family that held the mightiest castle in the country and someday he would be the one sending out the call.

He waived to Berg as he led a family down to the shopping district, where the shop keepers would be housed. Frau Klemme bustled behind her, an elf laden with bags following behind. The merchant accommodations has two rooms so that the front one could be used to store and trade even when they were away from their usual premises.

There was a khaki uniformed ministry official with Frau Tunninger when he came back up to the surface, bowed over the book and taking down names of those who were still missing.

He was sent up to the castle for bed, the clock in the entrance hall telling him that it was the small hours of the morning. The castle was slightly quieter than the warrens, but not by much. Khaki clad officials hurried from the floo room to the south tower and back. Coven members in their expensive robes were dotted like dark jewels among them. He turned left at the top of the stairs, into the children's wing, which was equally as busy. The bottom floor was full of adults in plain everyday robes carrying towering piles of books and parchment, elves darted around trailed by floating desks, chairs and blackboards as the classrooms were readied to accommodate the extra students. The next floor up was even busier, elves darting around readying the children's dining room and sitting rooms. The top floor echoed with young voices, the occasionally scolding of a nanny elf pitched higher. He climbed up into his tower, paused at his room, then carried on climbing up.

Hermione's room was at the highest point of the tower, with the exception of the observatory in the pointed turret and it provided the best view over the gardens. It was empty, Hermione's clothes for the next day lying out on the bed. Her belongings were neatly arranged around the room, despite her only being in here for a couple of moments each day. He crossed to the window and looked down.

The dark lawns glowed with trails of torches, lighting the walls where dark figures patrolled. If he pressed his face against the glass he could just see the gates, brightly lit by the fires that glowed in the metal dragons' eyes. A snake of torch bearing figures wound through the gardens and towards the grottos; here, the large central fire roared in the pit. Around it, seated at huge long tables were scores of witches and wizards. They moved in a constant stream between the tables and the grotto and milled around with a roar of voices. He knew that by morning, over a thousand people would be contained within the castle and the warrens beneath.

They would remain until the threat of the dark wizard was gone, as it had been for centuries and Gellert couldn't see that changing any time soon... although, he'd heard that the custom had fallen in Britain. Britain had always been a little odd that way.

The next morning he had Beastie rouse him early and made sure to meet Hermione in her room to explain the situation to her. It was becoming a little game where he tried to spot exactly when she arrived. Her arrival was irregular, varying between long before he awoke to just in time to rush to their lessons. He took the star chart for that evening's astronomy classes and worked on predicting when each star would rise. The trickiest part of astronomy was that he wrote his notes in the dark, so deciphering them later could be challenging.

She arrived the moment he looked away. One minute the bed was empty, clothes laid out neatly by her elf. The next moment she was sitting up, dressed perfectly, hair smooth and ready for the day. She bounced up with more energy than anyone had the right to have in the morning.

She greeted him cheerfully and danced over to the window, throwing it open to let in a blast of blisteringly cold air. He shivered, withdrawing into his warm cloak even as she leant out without hers.

Her breath caught.

'Gellert, why are all these people here?' She asked, a tremor in her voice. He took a breath and explained to her how it was custom that the powerful Grindelwald family shelter those that couldn't provide their own ancestral wards and how the coven would use this as their command centre until the dark wizard Livius Lucan was caught. She nodded solemnly, smoothing her skirts. It was a habit she'd picked up recently that wouldn't have worked back when she wore those silly short skirts.

'What is my duty?' She asked.

'For now, you need to make sure you prove your right to the Grindelwald name in classes.' He said grimly. He had expected far longer before she was required to attend lessons with their peers to being her up to the standards required of a Grindelwald. As it was, everyone would be scrutinising her every action, every spell, every assignment to find her weaknesses and she'd had less than four months to prepare. If she failed to surpass expectations in any subject, it would reflect poorly on her and his mother for choosing to sponsor her, something which absolutely could not happen.

Hermione seemed to understand the gravity of the situation without explanation, which boded well for the day.

'I was also hoping you might accompany me tonight. I have to do the rounds of the warrens to check on everyone and settle any concerns.'

The young witch frowned, 'Aren't we a bit... young for that kind of job?' She asked.

'My mother is busy, so I have to do it. Age doesn't really come into it.' He replied firmly. Hermione's mouth snapped shut and she nodded calmly. He would be willing to bet his wand that she still disapproved but had decided to pick her battles. It was an annoying tactic that she'd probably picked up from Anneken because he was perfectly aware that he now owed her not kicking up a fuss about something she did that he disapproved of.

He could hardly tell her to kick up a fuss either. He really shouldn't have supported her friendship with the older witch this strongly.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried. Hermione was sent into the 10 year old's class within half an hour of lessons starting because she was already so comfortable channeling magic without her wand that the basic guided meditation the tutor was walking the younger children through was well below her. He took great amusement when the Tunninger tutor asked her kindly to produce a small flame. To his great surprise and the envy of every student in the room, she spread her fingers and immediately flames licked out, whispering into a strong, single tongue at the tip of each finger. Berg applauded her merrily and the surprised tutor scrambled for feedback, looking a little put out at her easy accomplishment of magic that most adults struggled with.

Gellert had initially been jealous of how easily Hermione had taken to witchcraft. She had struggled initially, so much in fact that he had been concerned. Then, one day, the tutor had had them meditate together and it was like their magic was two parts of a whole. Hers had jumped through their joined hands and she had made a soft noise of realisation. From then on, she had forged a solid pathway that was more than worthy of a Grindelwald. Once she'd figured out how to channel her magic into the world, she'd come on in leaps and bounds. Her ability to direct her magic was awe inspiring and her sheer power was incredible.

So, her elemental, raw magic rivalled Gellert's, with an allowance made for age difference of course, but her conjuration lagged behind as she tried to get the hang of holding multiple factors in her mind at once.

Unfortunately, the Tunninger tutor wasn't following his mother's curriculum and followed the more traditional progression of transfiguration before conjuration. He set Hermione to turn a matchstick into a needle using the incantation.

If viciousness and focus alone were all it took to transfigure something, Gellert didn't doubt Hermione would have the pointiest needle in Germany. However, one also needed to know how to weave magic to facilitate the change. For most witches and wizards, the incantation and wand combination would perform the actual weaving and channelling of the magic, so focus and viciousness would be sufficient, but, having been educated according to Lady Grindelwald's rules, Hermione didn't even think to reach for her wand. She just sat at the desk, looking confused slightly upset.

Several times the tutor peered at Hermione's progress with a smugness and offered her nothing more than condescending comments. Gellert hated the man by the time he granted them a fifteen minute break. Hermione looked to be almost in frustrated tears, but she was stifling them bravely.

He dragged his chair over to her desk as the other children got up and made their way to the bathrooms.

'Hey.' He greeted softly, offering her the rose he'd transfigured from a quill. She smiled faintly conjured a vase to put the flower in with a wave of her hand.

'I don't get it, Gellert. I don't get how to start the magic.' She said angrily, flicking the match. It skittered along the desk and dropped to the floor noiselessly.

'He expected you to use your wand and the incantation.' He explained and her eyebrows drew together.

'He didn't say that.'

'Well no, he assumed you would know that... most people don't use wandless magic.' He explained, her eyebrows drew even closer.

'But wands are so limited.' She quoted Lady Grindelwald.

'Yes, but they are easier. Most people learn wizardry, then try to replicate that with wordless, then try to replicate that again for wandless. We learn completely differently from the start, we channel our own magic to perform our will, then it becomes unnecessary to learn countless different spells.' Hermione was nodding, but she still looked confused.

'Why doesn't everyone learn like us?' She asked. Gellert smiled and held out his hands.

'Because you must learn by feel. You cannot learn from a book, and you can't have your mind cluttered by incantations and how wands cast magic.' Her hands touched his lightly, sinking familiarly into each other's magic. He could feel her watching him as he first levitated the match back onto the desk - well within her ability already - then, he took her step by step through the process of transfiguration. He demonstrated the way to mentally construct the required changes, melding and morphing the original object into the new one, before sending a spark of magic racing along his mental directions, acting out his will. Before them, the match turned silver, lengthened and narrowed and became pointy at one end.

They broke apart and Hermione inspected the needle closely.

'Why wouldn't I just conjure a needle?' She asked, waving her hand across the table. An identical needle shimmered into being beside the one Gellert had made.

'Transfiguration takes less magic - forget needles, imagine conjuring a...' He paused, wracking his brain for an example that she'd understand at her current level. 'Imagine conjuring a bed.' He decided. Hermione nodded. 'Think how much magic it would make just to make that much of something solid, not to mention all the different materials! It's much easier to turn something that's already similar into a bed, perhaps a chair. You've already got wood, fabric, padding... you just need to reshape it all.'

Hermione was nodding in understanding. She pulled another match out of the box and screwed her eyes shut. When she was ready, she waved her hand over the match and it morphed into a needle.

They shared a grin.

'That's not very hard.' Hermione scoffed lightly. 'Now I know what I'm meant to be doing.'

'It's not now, but there's not much to think about, is there?' Gellert laughed. 'A bed would be much more difficult.'

Hermione pondered, then waved her hands in a complex wiggle. A miniature bed appeared in front of them. Gellert laughed uproariously and Hermione opened her eyes. She squinted at the bed, then laughed too. It was bed shaped with a rough, splintery wooden frame and a soft mattress. The blankets were made of wood too, as were the pillows, but somehow they were still spongy and soft.

'See, much more difficult.' He teased. Hermione banished the bed with a huff just as the others came back in. He shuffled back to his desk as continued transfiguring quills into flowers. He took great pleasure in the tutor's surprise and barely hidden awe when Hermione flawlessly transfigured a needle in front of him.

After lunch they had to sit through a lecture on wizarding history and the formation of the ICW for everyone above the age of 7. Hermione took avid notes through the whole lecture using one of her clever self-inking quills. Gellert considered doing the same but nerves were starting to stir in his lower abdomen at the thought of what would come next.

He only had the vaguest ideas of what to expect when they visited the warrens that evening. He knew he had to welcome everyone and open their feast, then sit for an hour to give people a chance to bring their problems to him. It felt like a dementor was growing in his stomach as he considered what would really be his first appearance to the general public. What if he tripped, or made a stupid decision to fix a problem? He would become the laughing stock of the country. He would disgrace the Grindelwald name.

Hermione cocked her head at him from across the room and the dementor seemed to grow a little larger. What if Hermione saw him make a mistake and he embarrassed himself in front of her too. Or, what if she embarrassed herself and it got back to his mother and she had her patronage terminated? Suddenly it didn't seem like such a good idea to have asked her join him.

The history lesson ended too soon and before he knew it they were both dressed in formal robes and Hermione was on his arm as they strolled down the path from the castle to the grotto and the warren entrance.

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the mountain, a chill settling in the air and making him glad for his warm cloak. Hermione commented idly on the level of feed in the carnivorous mount's pens and Gellert pulled out the ledger he would be making records in tonight to note it down. As he wrote, she vanished into the stables to check on their mounts.

They continued on when she re-emerged, arriving at the massive dining area. The long tables were arranged in a double horseshoe around the fire pit, a smaller table on a raised dais on the fourth side. Two chairs were at this table, one for Hermione and one for himself.

The large tables were filling quickly, a bell was ringing somewhere in the depths of the warrens, steadily growing louder as a grumpy looking elf barged through the steady flow of surfacing wixen. The bell was almost as large as the elf and everyone in the vicinity jumped out of the way as the creature swung it around with a worrying lack of spatial awareness.

The flow of people slowed and finally petered to a stop as the volume of conversation built at the three long tables. A bewildering mixture of people sat at the tables. There were children, mostly younger than Durmstrang age (the school was considered safe enough that they didn't need to bring the students home.) and the occasional teen who was being home schooled. Packed around them in far greater numbers were adults, rich and poor, dressed in a dazzling variety of clothing, from muggle to wizarding, earthy tones to bright, glittering jewels, fur and rough wool, pointed hats to ridiculous, teetering muggle contraptions complete with stuffed birds and architectural feats of lace.

A hush fell as he stood, people peering up at him and standing to get a better look at the heir to the powerful but reclusive Grindelwald family. There were murmurs of surprise as Hermione was noticed but she seemed completely unaffected.

He cleared his throat, then greeted them, introducing himself. Hermione gave a gracious nod as she was introduced, thankfully knowing better than to curtesy to those who were their inferiors in the hierarchy of the wizarding world. Once introductions and welcomes were completed he invited anyone to approach with issues that needed resolving.

He clutched Hermione's hand beneath the table and drew on their shared magic to send a huge fireball into the fire pit. The stacked branches ignited with a roar, blazing powerfully and sending a rush of warm air across the gathered people. Even from here he could see wizards and witches nodding in approval at the power of that spell, not that they knew it was actually the combined effort of the two of them.

The first wizard was approaching before he'd even dropped back into his seat.

'Master Grindelwald.' The man bowed in his direction, then bowed to Hermione, greeting her similarly. He seemed middle class, wearing plain but well looked after robes. His blond hair reflected orange in the firelight. Gellert flicked a hand for him to continue.

'I'm an astronomer, see.' The wizard patted his belt where a long, collapsible telescope hung. What followed was an hour of meaningless problems. The astronomer wanted to be assigned a duty roster spot in the late afternoon so that it didn't disturb his star gazing hours. A dumpy witch with six children had only been assigned quarters with five child beds, a rough looking wizard complained that one of the Diomede's mares in the paddock as snorted fire over his mount, injuring it and tall, willowy witch bedecked with glittering diamonds complained that someone had stolen some gallons from her purse. Considering she realised mid-sentence that she'd left her purse unattended at the table, Gellert didn't think much of that one.

Hermione sat there patiently beside him for the whole evening, taking notes and creating action plans and recording everything in the large ledger. He was faint with hunger by the time the hour was finally up and they could return to the castle for their own meal.