'What in Merlin's name are you doing?' Gellert demanded. Hermione ignored him and continued carefully laying the golden sheet of Kevlar atop the lattice of silvery strands of acromantula silk. It was painfully dry in the room, courtesy of a whole host of environmental spells that she'd spent weeks perfecting. The raw silk was brittle as a result, but at least the stickiness had faded. It was a necessary compromise if she wanted to get this perfect. And it had to be perfect. It had taken every penny of her pocket money to persuade the Southampton sailmaker to part with the high end fabric, and almost the entirety of her wizarding allowance to buy unrefined acromantula silk. There would be no second chances.
She cold feel the young wizard moving around the room and trying to peer over her shoulders. Carefully, she used a smooth wooden spatula to smooth out the air bubbles, then took a deep breath. Using her wand, she carefully cancelled the environmental charms and started misting water across the layers on the bench.
Gellert must have had some pressing reason to talk to her because he transfigured an empty cauldron into a stool and sat opposite her. She steadfastly ignored him, now carefully drying the fabric with gusts of warm air. The wand made her magic feel oddly muffled, but she needed it to fine tune the spells to exactly the right strength - too much heat and the acromantula silk would be irreparably damaged, too much water and the potion Frau Hassel had created for her wouldn't stick.
The potion itself was interesting and made up of two parts, the ingredients remaining a mystery to Hermione. It was a deep, metallic black, runnier than most potions and it would dry to a thin film, similar to cling film in the modern muggle world. The second part was dark, chrome blue and was even thinner. It had to be misted finely over the first potion to complete the magic.
She tipped the first potion over the fabric and used the wooden spatula to push it through the delicate weave, making sure every strand was soaked.
'How is your project progressing?' Lady Grindelwald swept through the doorway as well. Her height meant she could see over the table easily from behind the young witch. Hermione ignored her too, now carefully misting the second potion from it's spray bottle. The Lady was not offended, casting a couple of diagnostics with a wave of her hand and observing the results with interest.
'I think it's ready.' Hermione cautiously poked the fabric with one hand. The potion had formed a dark, rubbery skin. She could just see the weave of the kevlar through it and when she peeled it off the surface, it was unbelievably light.
'It looks excellent. Let's go and see if it does the job.' Hermione rolled up the sheet and followed Lady Grindelwald, Gellert trailing behind her. Katana was unconscious in the paddock, sedated by a rather sceptical looking magizoologist. The British witch was nothing like anyone Hermione had met in this time; closer to Radagast the Brown than Gandalf. Despite it being mid summer, she wore a man's leather overcoat with bulging pockets that fell almost to her knees. A bird nested on a wide brimmed straw hat over loose, reddish-brown hair. Her blue dress had been tucked into her belt, showing off sturdy men's work boots. She introduced herself as Elsa Scamander, rubbing her grubby hands clean on her dress to shake their hands briskly. Then, with no further pleasantries, she grabbed the fabric from Hermione's arms and unrolled it. Mrs. Scamander put the fabric through all kinds of tests, stretching, flapping, tearing before simply inspecting it closely.
'Remarkable, it should work.' She finally said. 'I've never seen anything like it. The acromantula silk is fully protected, you say?' Hermione nodded and allowed the matriarch to explain the processes. It was interesting to listen to her talk, describing the properties of the Kevlar despite only having learned of it's existence a week ago.
Hermione left the two more experienced witches to graft the fabric over the wing. She couldn't think of any way to repair the rest of the damage, but at least her beautiful mount was no longer earthbound.
'So what's up, Gellert?' She asked, sidling over to him. He still looked exhausted and she knew he was having nightmares about his experience with Livius Lucan. Today though, despite his haggard appearance, there was a flicker of light in his eyes.
He brandished a heavy letter, then looked at her expectantly. She peered with some confusion at the heavy scroll. It was plain, identical to any other scroll she'd seen before. The ribbon that bound it was maroon and the seal was black ink.
For several long, awkward moments Gellert stared at her and she stared at the scroll. Then...
'Oh right, muggle, sorry. It's my letter to Durmstrang!' This time, when he brandished the scroll, Hermione noticed the eagle on the seal, and the crisp gothic calligraphy in black ink that spelled out Gellert's name.
'Go on then, open it.' Hermione said eagerly. She'd heard very little about Durmstrang, only enough to know that most Northern and Eastern European witches and wizards attended and that it was an important part of the sponsorship process. It was the school that contacted families that had expressed an interest with the next year's muggleborns and sponsorship was given out from there. Only those with sponsorship were accepted, the rest were left to be taken in by the small independent schools run by local ministries.
Hermione was lucky enough to be skipping that step.
Gellert had broken the seal and unrolled the scroll, his eyes flicked from side to side as he read it.
'Honourable Gellert Grindelwald, scion of House Grindelwald, Lord of Blau Berg. It would be my pleasure to invite you to accept your place at Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning. In anticipation of your acceptance I have included a list of the necessary books and equipment.
I would also remind you that beasts classified as category XXXX and above are not suitable mounts and should an alternative be needed, you must send an owl at the earliest opportunity. A guide will await you at the school portal on September 1st, no later than sunset.
Yours sincerely,
Headmaster Ernest Vindictus, Professor of Education in Rituals and Ancient Spellcasting.'
Her young friend read the scroll to her and Hermione shared his grin, this was a moment she knew witches and wizards of every class looked forwards to for their entire lives. Then her smile became slightly forced; with Gellert off to school, she would be losing her only real friend. He would be busy with the others in some far off castle learning incredible magic, and she would still be here learning dancing and manners. She had another year before she got to go to school. She could already tell how cold and lonely the castle would be without him there.
'What's on the list?' She finally asked, peering at the scroll and trying to read it upside down.
'The uniform; brown, brown and more brown - oh look, some colour; red half robe and red fur cloak. We need lots of books, Elementary Spell Casting, Defence and Offence: A Guide to Combative Magic, Birds and Beasts, Beginner Brews, Ancient Civilisations Book 1: Greeks, Egyptians and Romans.' He listed the books, all titles that were unfamiliar to her and she eagerly guessed at the subjects that each would be associated with.
'Then we need a cauldron, a set of scales, dragon-hide gloves, a staff and a wand.' He listed off. Hermione had seen coven members with staffs strapped to their saddles, but she'd never seen anyone carrying one in a casual situation, or even using one for that matter.
'What about an owl? Are you allowed to take an owl so that we can talk?' She demanded. Gellert smiled and pointed to the last line of the letter.
'Permitted pets include owls, cats, toads and dogs. Please submit applications in writing for familiars of other species.' He read out, Hermione grinned. She couldn't wait to go back to the Unterhalb; the magical shopping district that Gellert had taken her to after her first week of visits.
Instead, as Mrs Scamander finished grafting the fabric to Katana's wings, they discussed staves and duelling outfits. The outfit that had been lent to her by Lady Grindelwald now waited on a mannequin in her rooms, but Gellert assured her that it was only a temporary item. She would receive her own when she reached fifteen and came of age. It was an exciting thought; a set of armour designed to suit her style, her magic and her body.
They fell silent as Katana was revived by a series of spells, watching as the beast raised it's head, then clambered awkwardly to his feet.
The repair was three black slashes, each about three fingers thick which flexed evenly with the surrounding natural skin. The Longma looked ridiculous as he noticed the repair, then tested it several times, huge wings spreading to either side of him and powerful gusts of wind buffeting them as he flapped them experimentally.
'Jump up.' Mrs Scamander ordered, then picked Hermione up and plopped her on the Longma's slippery, scaly back without bothering with a saddle. The young witch's squeak of fear was lost in the boom of displaced air and roar of wind as they surged upwards. She grabbed desperately for grip, yanking accidentally on his silky mane and digging her knees into his sides. Katana's wingbeats faltered at her accidental abuse, and his flight became even more uneven. She wrapped her arms desperately around his neck and endured an eternity of terrified ascent before they finally levelled out.
It was significantly less secure without the harness, but now that he wasn't surging upwards, she could relax. Apologising to her mount, she glanced over at where the acromantula silk and Kevlar patch stood out starkly against the silvery-white of his natural leather wings. They beat strongly, confidently, there was no hesitation or signs of pain. Her healing had been a success.
Peering down she could see the patchwork of muggle fields stretching out to her left, to her right the ripples of the hills stretched out like the surface of a deep green sea. Summer had melted the whitecaps of snow on the towering peaks beyond the foothills and heather dusted the grey rocks like jade inlaid in silver. Katana circled gently on a current of warm air, circling steadily and she scrambled to adjust her weight before she slipped off his back.
Now that they were flat, she could concentrate enough to cast a sticking charm to keep her firmly anchored and the ride became much more enjoyable. With flight restored, witch and steed glided together until, soundlessly, Hermione disappeared.