There was something different about visiting the Unterhalb this time. There was an undercurrent of anticipation and excitement that could only be because he was about to finally get his own wand.
They were all three dressed to the nines, bedecked in their best robes and all trimmed with liberal swathes of Grindelwald blue. Hermione gripped his hand tightly, only releasing him for just long enough to step through the fire before hanging onto him again as they emerged into the square.
It was far busier than last time, the square was mobbed by families with children spilling out of The Hexenkessel and eating at benches surrounded by large packages. A bubble of space formed around them, an instinctive reaction to the presence of more powerful wixen, but otherwise they went almost unnoticed. They magicked any trace of soot off their robes, then his mother led them down the street to get robes measured.
There was a queue of children waiting to be measured for robes at Alterman's spilled out of the door. His mother led them to the doorway, pausing behind a woman who looked more like a beetle than a witch in her iridescent green dress. Her son saw them waiting, and nudged her urgently but the witch hushed him furiously and continued regaling the bystanders -via the medium of her husband - the value of her silk gloves and the horror of the french tailor supplying lime instead of fresh green. Growing impatient, his mother cleared her throat meaningfully.
'Both colours are garish enough to be publicly unsuitable. I'm surprised any tailor conceded to make either.'
The witch's husband spun so fast that his polished shoes tangled in her skirt and the smooth, impractical soles slipped on the wooden step of the shop. He managed to regain his balance, but not before his wife's skirts parted from her bodice with the sickening tear and the plink of dropping pearls.
The witch let out a screech that might have been a name and title, or condemnation for her husband but was definitely thick with fear and horror. The Grindelwalds were reclusive, few witches and wizards actually met them in person outside of times of refuge. Blocking the door and having her skirt torn could hardly be the way someone so clearly obsessed with status wanted to meet one of the figurative ruling class.
'Lady Grindelwald.' She finally gathered herself enough to deeply curtsy (tearing her skirt more in the process. A brave boy in a grubby shirt braved the area to collect the stones that spilled from her broken, bejewelled belt). 'We didn't see you there.'
'Obviously.' His mother drawled, sweeping past with an impressive look of derision. Hermione and Gellert hurried close behind her.
It was just as full inside. Rails of cloaks and robes, shelves of skirts, trousers and shirts, piles of hats and gloves. Durmstang crimson and brown filled two walls, the sky blue of Beauxbatons filled the far wall and the stone grey and white of Koldovstoretz on a stand in the middle of the room. There were three stools equidistant across the middle of the room, a young witch attendant tailoring uniforms on each one. A tall, wiry man with a billowing black robe moved like a thunderstorm around the room, gold embroidery flashing like lightning. He noticed them almost immediately, screeching to a halt and somehow managing to convert his almost stumble into a deep, grovelling bow.
'My Lady, I'm honoured, so honoured to have you in my humble shop.' Gellert's lip curled slightly. He had seemed almost quaint in his frantic clumsiness, but his voice was oily and his facial hair was eerily similar to Lucan's. 'There were rumours, of course, that your son would be attending Durmstrang this year, honoured, so honoured that you would choose me to cloth him for his first uniform.'
The man somehow managed to grovel backwards as he led them to the Durmstrang wall and Gellert was pleased to note that both witches accompanying him seemed to find the tailor as repulsive as he did. Nonplussed, Alterman began tugging clothing from the wall - shirts that buttoned up the left shoulder, brown trousers and a wide leather belt with the Durmstrang logo stamped on the side. The trousers had a bright red stripe down the leg, which matched the bright red "half-cloak" which was really a jacket. The wide belt went over the jacket and he was toasty warm within minutes. The school must be incredibly cold for a uniform this warm to be necessary. His eyes wandered over to Hermione who was looking at the girl's uniforms. The young witch was talking earnestly with his mother, and they appeared to be comparing two styles.
Finally, he was fitted with a heavy fur cloak which slung over his left arm and strapped under his right armpit. It left his wand arm free, and combined with the thick fur hat it was stiflingly hot. Noticing that he was finished, Hermione and his mother hurried over... and neither did more than nod approvingly. Hermione told him he looked smart, his mother nodded and paid Alterman. A swish of her hand and his new clothes were folded on the desk and a wave of the shop owners wand had them wrapped. A house elf in Grindelwald livery popped in to take the packages home, and that was that. There was no acknowledgement, no pride in seeing him in uniform, none of the approval he so desperately desired.
Cauldron shopping passed in a haze of miserable acceptance but he trusted Hermione and his mother had managed to pick out suitable options for him. When they emerged from the cramped potioneering shop, having skipped yet another queue, his mother suddenly stopped and observed him critically.
'I think we should get a wand next.' She declared and he started. Wands were traditionally the last item on the list to be bought, but he daren't ask why she had suddenly decided to forsake tradition.
Gregorovitch's was a dark shop down a secluded alleyway. It was quiet, as most witches and wizards couldn't afford to have their own wands custom built. Most would go to his larger shop in the main alley and find the closest matching generic wand. They would work, but nothing compared to a custom built wand.
The door opened silently, and they walked cautiously towards the brightly lit bench at the end of the room. The room was thick with magic, so heavy that it felt like they were pushing aside curtains of power as they walked.
The man that sat bowed over the bench was younger than expected, perhaps thirty. He had dark, stubby facial hair to match dark but friendly eyes. He looked up when they entered and nodded as if his expectations had been confirmed.
'Lady Grindelwald.' The wandmaker greeted warmly, then his eyes turned to Gellert and Hermione. 'Your son? Excellent, jump up here then and lets take a look...'
Gellert hopped up onto the stool with nerves tumbling in his stomach. Gregorovitch circled him, poking him and taking measurements with a delicate silver tape measure. The man made several notes on a scrap of parchment, then handed him a strange wand, carved with tiny, intricate runes. It connected with his magic with a strange pull and completely without command began to pour silvery flames which flickered out harmlessly before they hit the floor. Gregorovitch hummed loudly, sounding pleased but unsurprised, then got him to perform certain movements and asked him questions.
Gellert was completely honest, telling the wandmaker that duelling and transfiguration were his best subjects but he really wanted to be good at ritual magic and warding. Gregorovitch made more notes, and drummed his fingers against his brightly lit desk a couple of times.
Gellert jumped as he snapped his fingers and bright witchlights flared to life down the walls. Hermione shrieked, jumping away from the barrels of branches and shelves of wood, then hurried over to look at the other wall with blatant fascination. Tall jars of scales, bunches of feathers in different colours and sleek silver bunches of unicorn hair, green mermaid hair and deep black thestral hair. The wandmaker had Gellert touch several branches and planks; a smooth branch with mottled patches of light and dark wood, a plank of dark wood that could only be ebony, a lighter wood, traced with complex dark veins. There was a slight buzz in his fingers as he passed over what looked like snarl of driftwood - 'Hawthorn, interesting, lets try...'
He couldn't discern the difference between the buzz for hawthorn, and the buzz for the branch that Gregorovitch eventually chose. He seemed deeply contemplative as they repeated the procedure with the cores - phoenix feather, doxy wings and settling on Augrey feathers.
The wandmaker muttered something about wildness to himself as he took the two ingredients back to his desk and Gellert watched with avid fascination as the wandmaker literally tore a twisted stick from the branch and drilled a hole in it with meticulous precision and a contraption that looked remarkably muggle. He stopped at some unknown mark, then still without using magic once, inserted the feather with a careful accuracy. The soft grey feather squeezed into the space, then the wandmaker quickly trimmed the end and stoppered it with a piece of wood.
He held out the wand for their inspection; it was dark, bark still covering all but the stringy, pale tear when it had once been attached to the branch. Three red thorns poked out along the sides, almost like rose thorns but wickedly sharp. It looked... unfinished, rough, nothing like the beautifully carved and polished wand he was using at the moment. His mother's too was smooth, unadorned but made from beautifully coloured wood.
'Oh wow, Gellert. That's amazing, it looks like a Druid's wand, you know, like they used in that tapestry of Demetre the Dueller?' Hermione cooed, her eyes wide as she looked at the instrument, displayed proudly on Gregorovitch's hands. Gellert did vaguely remember the tapestry, although he'd never paid that much attention to it. Hermione, however, paid avid attention to every detail of their home and he knew she would never lie to him.
'Very good, Young Lady.' Gregorovitch smiled at her. 'The ancient druids were the first to use wands, although theirs were more like staffs. What we use as a core today would have been tied to the exterior of the wand then.' Then the wandsmith turned back to Gellert who really wasn't sure whether he liked having such a crude looking instrument as his wand. He fingered the inherited one in his sleeve and wondered if he could get away with using that one instead. Perhaps he could go to Ollivanders and get a different one that suited him, it wouldn't be as good a match but at least it would be a bit more... fitting.
'Ah, I see. Unusual for a Grindelwald to pass up power for looks.' Gregorovitch sounded disappointed as he turned away.
'Wait!' Gellert cried and the wandmaker stopped in his tracks, the wand half way to a generic Gregorovitch's box. 'I'll try it.'
With a spring in his step, Gregorovitch bounced back across the room and Gellert took it without hesitation this time. There were no sparks, no fountains of flame, nothing to signify that this wand was his. There didn't need to be, he knew it, his magic knew it and the wand knew it. Without urging, his magic rushed up his arm and pooled at the tip of the wand, just waiting for instruction. It felt like he was a full barrel of water, the wand was a tap just waiting to open. It was logical, common sense to use the wand. He flicked it, and a spark shot out of the end.
He finally turned his attention to the other people in the room. Hermione looked awestruck, perhaps feeling his magic's response to the wand through their intimate familiarity with each other. His mother and Gregorovitch both wore proud smiles.
'Excellent, excellent. A very powerful wand, blackthorn has always been favoured by duellists as a powerful wood and augurey feathers suit those with an inclination towards transfiguration. Often paired with those who show a particular talent for divination - perhaps another subject worth pursuing when you reach second year. Very compatible materials, no need for runes and all that nonsense to stabilise it. You'll find the bark better grip than a polished finish and those thorns will serve you particularly well if someone tries to catch your wand without care.' Gellert listened to all of this with avid interest. He'd never considered divination as a subject, but everyone knew it was foolish to disregard the advice of a wandmaker. He was also glad to note that the man was right, the rough bark was grippy, far better in fact than the borrowed wand he had been using and those thorns were razor sharp. Upon surreptitious inspection, his mother didn't seem as displeased as he had expected she would be at the coarseness of the wand, instead she seemed to glow with pride at the suggestion that he had talent for divination.
Feeling much better, he trailed after his mother out of the shop to finish their shopping.
The book shop was a nightmare. His mother carved a trail straight to the shelf of school book and they gathered the listed texts, turned, and found Hermione missing. His mother heaved a sigh that seemed to ask for a gift of patience, then turned to Gellert.
'I dearly hope you know what Hermione is reading about at the moment.'
He though back, then shook his head.
'I couldn't tell you, she was reading a novel last.' He replied. His mother rubbed her temples and began carving her way over to the fiction section. It was far emptier than the school books shelf, empty enough that they quickly learned Hermione wasn't there. He hadn't really expected her to be, her German was good but she still preferred to read in her native English. There was a very small section of international fiction which also yielded no results. A methodical search of the non-fiction section finally yielded results. They found her in one of the dustiest, emptiest corners, perched on a rickety chair that was hung with cobwebs with a thin, handwritten book held up to a handheld witchlight to read.
'Hermione!' He gasped, the witch jumped, then looked up innocently.
'Look what I found Gellert!' She hurried up to him eagerly and he noted with some dismay that she must have been moving through the bookshop almost as quickly as them. She levitated a small pile of texts of various sizes. A heavy book with a maroon cover was about the history of Durmstrang, there was a book that was clearly secondhand that looked like potions, at least he hoped it was potions and that was what the stains on the binding were, then there was a book on divination, which he really should have expected and finally, the thin book she still held. His mother made a noise of exaggerated suffering and glanced at her book selection.
His mother then informed him that it was important that he make his staff selection unaccompanied by anyone else, and bustled Hermione off to the Hexenkessel. Gellert entered 'Wood's Staves.' He knew it was owned by the German branch of an English family that historically had always been staff builders, but he'd heard they had fallen on hard times in England. Most witches and wizards didn't use staffs anymore, and he'd heard that it wasn't even taught at Hogwarts.
The staff shop was not an ordinary shop. Instead, it was set up like a duelling ring. The floor was sandy, fenced off by thick ropes. Six large, padded posts were driven into the ground and two children were smacking them with long, plain pieces of wood. Each child was supervised by two men that could only be twins. Dark brown hair pulled into identical braids that trailed down the back of identical sets of duelling robes, beards that were carefully trimmed into neat ovals at the bottom and each man leaned on a tall, polished staff. These staffs were nothing like the sticks the two children swung. The top held a metal bracket which cupped a large stone - nothing ridiculous like ruby or emerald, just a highly polished stone orb. The other end, the one driven into the sand was currently invisible, but Gellert knew it would be a heavy, metal spike. The wood was worn but carefully varnished and four leather grips were gleaming with fresh oil at different heights along the weapon.
One of the men looked up at the door chime and pointed Gellert to a chair up against the wall. He sat obediently. Perhaps his mother would have preferred him to assert the Grindelwald name but he'd almost passed up his wand trying to please his mother and the way Hermione acted made him wonder if he'd gotten what his mother wanted to see completely wrong.
More than ten minutes passed. He watched as one of the twins stopped his charge from whacking the post and made his way over to a door at the far end of the arena. The boy followed him, then re-emerged a couple of minutes later with a package slightly longer than he was tall and a wide grin on his face. The now free man gestured him over.
Gellert made his way across the sandy floor, highly aware that he was being scrutinised. He drew to a stop and the man continued to observe him in silence. His mother often looked at him in the same way and he stood perfectly still.
The man sighed heavily.
'One of the old family children, I assume.'
'Yes, Grindelwald.' Gellert confirmed with a quick nod. The man's eyes did widen slightly and he glanced back down at the clothing he wore.
'You all stand the same, like you can't decide if you want to own the place or hide from it.' He assessed, circling Gellert. The young wizard stood stiffly, pretty sure he and every old family had just been insulted. 'Have you been injured recently?' The man demanded.
'Yes, I broke both legs.'
'Both? Did a healer see them?'
'She had to vanish them. I healed them myself, didn't know it was a...' he paused, trying to remember the medical term. 'The situation didn't allow for a healer to see them at first.'
The man shook his head. 'Archaic, the way they raise children here.'
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, he was immensely grateful when the man handed him a long wooden stick and told him to hit the pole. He was given no more guidance than that. He grasped the stick like he used to hold a sword in his fencing lessons, figuring many of the same concepts must apply. With his wrist flexible and his fingers holding the weapon lightly, he swung the stick, twisting up from his ankles and through his waist to deliver as much power as possible to the post. The stick cracked against the wood, his body easily absorbing the impact.
'You've been taught to use a sword.' The man commented. 'Nice, flexible body and hold, good direction of power. You just can't replicate that in people who learn later in life. Now, we just sell the plain stave to first years. You can come back in fifth year to get one with a stone if you want to take sorcery or advanced duelling.'
Gellert nodded and followed him into the small room through the back door. On closer inspection the room was actually reasonably big but floor to ceiling stacks of shelves ran along both walls and took a healthy twelve feet of the width. Most of the shelves were filled with long wooden poles but the far section was filled with large drawers. He assumed that was where they kept the stones.
'Now, you're nice and flexible, so we're not restricted. Now, lets see, you're certainly aggressive and powerful, I would give you ebony if I didn't think you were planning to take up sorcery at some point. Ebony wouldn't mix with your magic though, so perhaps Hawthorn would suit better... unless you do plan to just use it to hit things?'
Gellert shook his head quickly and the man rummaged though the staves stacked on the rack above a label that read 'hawthorn'. He pulled out several, leaning them up against the shelf, then made an interested noise and pulled out another, standing it up next to Gellert.
'It's a little tall for you, but you'll grow into it. You'll like the shade of the wrappings too.' The staff was very pale with a single blood red vein running the length on one side. The leather was so close to Grindelwald blue that only someone who had grown up surrounded by the colour would be able to tell the difference. He did like it. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface and lifted it, it was surprisingly heavy but when he held the middle handle, perfectly balanced so that it suddenly became far lighter.
Grinning happily, he handed the man some money and almost skipped from the room. He found Hermione and his mother already at the Hexenkessel. The Tunningers sat at the same table, the adults discussing something in low voices whilst Berg showed off his new wand to Hermione. Alice was flicking through Hermione's new divination book and comparing it to her own set book for school.
He grinned happily and slid in beside them.