Their breath clouded the air as they left the castle. It was the coldest night since Ostara, which he couldn't help but feel was a bad omen. The tracks of the Longma were distinctive and they followed them easily down the track, wands drawn and shield charms ready.
The trees towered over their heads, obscuring any light from the moon. Their wavering witchlights were the only light.
'Lord Grindelwald!' Whispered a voice and seven wands snapped down, trained on a tiny waif of a girl who was crawling up the track. It wasn't Hermione, that was the first thing he noted, then he saw the horrific burns that scarred one side of her body. Perhaps by magic, her eyes and ears had been saved, but the rest of her right side was a mess of charred skin and raw, bleeding scars.
'Mother of Merlin.' One of the ministry officials swore and the witch near the back jumped forwards to begin casting healing spells. Gellert's blood chilled because injuries like that could only mean that something terrible had happened.
'You've got to help her, the young missus.' The girl was trying to shake off the healer, desperate to pass on her message to him. 'She was fighting him, and those nasty dead people, her and the dragon horse. You've got to help her.'
She fell unconscious as though the need to deliver her message had been all that was keeping her awake, dropping into the arms of the healer.
'You, take her back to the castle. We need to help Hermione.' He ordered one of them men, instructing the rest to follow him with renewed urgency. He knew now, for certain, that Hermione was in deep, deep trouble.
They jogged down the track which seemed to stretch forever, Gellert's heart pounded in his chest, his magic pulsed.
The flash of silver was the first thing they saw - the elegant body of the Longma splayed in a pool of metallic blue blood. Only meters down the track, embers still glowed in the trees and charred husks curled across the road.
'Mother of Merlin.' That same official swore again. Whatever battle had been here was long over, and what a battle it had been. The officials moved through the carnage, extinguishing the remaining fires and burning decapitated body parts that were still animated and snatching at their robes. The Longma had put up almost as much of a fight as Hermione; gore splattered it's hooves and snout and the hooked talons on its wings.
The beast blinked one great eye and breath wheezed from it's chest, bubbling up through the five cursed slashes.
'The Longma is alive!' The medic cried, dropping down beside Gellert and casting a flurry of healing spells on the beast.
'There's no sign of Miss Grindelwald, but there's prints just down the track where a heavily loaded thestral has taken off. Gellert cursed, a word that Petrovna had taught him and would have had his mother locking him in his room for a month is she heard him utter it. He cast one last, desperate look around at the scene of the battle and ordered everyone to head back to the castle.
He trekked back up the hill at the back of the group, the Longma levitated between four of the group up front.
His arms snapped to his sides, his mouth jammed shut and he fell backwards, soft air catching his fall and drifting him soundlessly into the darkness beside the path. He struggled but every limb was immobilised and his magic seemed to be too, sitting immobile and docile however he tried to rouse it. Fingers plucked his wand from his frozen hand, snapping it with a crack that echoed through the woods. Somehow the group seemed to not hear and they continued upwards without him.
He was magically floated up onto the back of a thestral and secured in place by powerful sticking charms. With a lurch they took off, rising above the trees. The glittering form of Blaue Berg grew steadily smaller as they flew away.
They flew for a long time, the only sound the beating of wings and his own pounding heart. He would see Hermione, he reminded himself. At least he would see Hermione. The coven would come for them, he just had to keep Hermione safe.
They landed hours later in what looked like a ramshackle abandoned village. The thestral stumbled slightly over raised metal ridges in the ground but thankfully regained its footing and was led towards a strangely square cave. The metal ridge continued in here, a wave of odour worse than Hermione's charred battlefield washing over him. The moonlight shone straight through the entrance, dully illuminating a pile of tools in the hallway.
This was a mine, he realised, where muggle carved minerals from the earth... and if so, that smell was probably the muggles. He vomited, then craned his body to try and keep himself from lying in it. A dark voice chuckled and a moment later the magic holding him released. He slid down to the floor and only just managed to stay standing.
'Tsk Tsk, your little girly was much more polite.' The dark wizard told him. He was shoved forwards, barely managing to step over discarded tools. They passed down a slightly sloping, dark, corridor, then emerged into a greenish cavern packed with the reeking bodies of the inferi. Some still wielded their tools, or wore rounded tin hats. They pressed closely around them, held off by an invisible shield charm cast by the dark wizard. His heart pounded as he was forced up some stairs and into what could only be the wizard's private quarters.
The dark wizard froze behind him.
'No... Not possible.' He muttered, ruching forwards and almost bowling Gellert to the floor. The boy looked up, seeing a pair of heavy handcuffs resting on an empty dress which pooled on the floor. Of course, he realised, Hermione had disappeared in the same way she did every night, slipping soundlessly and effortlessly through wards and physical restraints. He almost kicked himself for not remembering, for getting himself into this situation.
At least Hermione was safe.
The dark wizard whipped around like a snake, his hand wrapping around Gellert's throat and lifting him effortlessly into the air.
'Where did she go?' Lucan hissed and Gellert choked out, truthfully, that he didn't know. And he didn't. He assumed it was back to England, but if she was Fey, it might be back to some ethereal place he'd never heard of. The dark wizard howled in mad rage, flinging the young wizard against the wall. Gellert's head cracked against stone and stars twinkled across his vision.
A flash of red light burned through the air and Gellert's legs erupted into pain, making the stars from before feel like sparks.
'That will keep that one here.' He heard the wizard mutter, then he was alone with the all consuming waves of fire.
But this was a pain he had dealt with before. He'd seen sage when he'd first come in, there was a white liquid that had looked like milk in a jug near where silver tins of muggle food were stacked in the corner. With the dark wizard no longer present, his magic responded and he summoned both ingredients. He mashed them together with his fingers, and tapped the mixture three times, speaking the familiar incantation. Stars flashed as he pulled the legs of his trousers up, then he almost blacked out as he rubbed the mixture over his agonising injuries. Just to be sure, he also rubbed some over the bump on his head.
It was agonising, but he forced himself to stay awake as the magic worked. As the ringing in his ears faded, he could hear Lucan bellowing at his undead servants as he searched the mine.
He needed to hide somewhere, he decided. There was little cover in the room, but he was fairly certain a strong sticking charm could have him pressed against the ceiling. If he went right above the door, it was unlikely the dark wizard would look up before Gellert could drop down on top of him.
The young wizard staggered on tingly, numb legs across the room and levitated himself to the ceiling, performing a wandless sticking charm. It worked like a treat, even if the effort made his head spin.
He was just in time as Livius Lucan stormed back through the door. Gellert didn't even wait for the wizard to notice he was missing. He cancelled the sticking charm and dropped like a stone. Lucan collapsed beneath the unexpected weight and surprise helped Gellert grapple the wand away from him in a fluffy of knees and elbows and chins.
Unbelievable power surged through him as he scrambled free, pointing the wand at the wizard who was now wheezing on the floor, an arm held to his gut where Gellert had somehow managed to land a solid kick.
'Go on then, do your worst.' The wizard taunted. Gellert happily obliged, throwing every thought, every ounce of the throbbing pain in his legs and head, his fear at having lost Hermione. He threw it out with a single thought, a single directive through the wand he held clutched in his hands. There was a sound like a thunderclap, a flash of light so bright that he was left blinking, and a terrible drawn out scream.
The dark wizard was flat on the floor, his skin ghostly pale and growing paler. Yet he was laughing, a crazed, pained laugh.
'I underestimated you.' The wizard wheezed. 'I am dark, but you, you will be a demon.'
The words chilled Gellert with a deep sense of foreboding, an tangible foreshadowing he could almost feel. He scrambled desperately from the room as palm-sized flakes of skin began to fall away from the dark wizard, drifting like ash to the floor.
Fire poured from the wand, clearing him a path through the inferi and he dashed out into the clear, evening air. He didn't stop, stumbling out into the abandoned village and to closest building. He curled up in the shadows, shaking with stress, fear and the incredible power that had surged through him only moments before.
He had killed someone. A horrible, evil, dark wizard who had killed thousands, but a person none the less. He jumped up, hurling the long, knobbly wand out of the window. It spun, twisted, then disappeared into the darkness of the night. He curled back up on the floor and cried and cried.