The next couple of days passed uneventfully; a nasty band of cold weather came through and she caught a nasty cold which left her bedbound in both timelines. Sammy brought schoolwork and bouquets of leaves each day (because there were no flowers left to pick along the way to her house.) It was odd, but certainly charming and he wedged himself firmly back into her parent's good books.
On the day she recovered enough to stop accidentally jinxing books off the shelves with ever sneeze, Lady Grindelwald decided to fulfil her promise to Hermione's ancestors.
They flew to the portal under heavy disillusionment charms and used them to travel to, oddly enough, Durmstrang. From there, it was a long flight south-west over the North Sea to the archipelago at the top end of Scotland.
They had no idea what to expect and as such had brought a second Granian, laden with saddlebags behind them. Bowls, athames and bolines, a pigeon, a simple white cloth dress each, satchels of herbs and candles, chalk and ink, incense, rope, a cauldron, Lady Grindelwald's staff and a basic set of stone chisels for carving runes.
A strong wind built as they got closer, slowing their progress and forcing both witches to cast warming charms. With it came a thick, ominous fog that obscured the sun and made it default to see one another without getting caught in the turbulence of each other's wings. They dropped lower, skimming across the white flecked waves as they rolled towards the distant, dark mass of cliffs. They shot up, soaring over icy bracken and heather. Grey rocks covered in lichen peered out, looming unexpectedly as they swept out and over another cliff. Steely water flashed beneath them, then another wild island. They banked left, swooping down a long, wide inlet with their wings whipping up little vortexes of freezing spray that pattered against the impervious charms cast over their cloaks and sheeted from Katana's scales. The inlet ended in a dark, rocky beach which blended into messy scrag of boulders and heather. Sheep bleated in alarm as they knifed between them and big, hairy cattle blinked in dopey surprise.
Lady Grindelwald set down suddenly, her Granian's hooves squelching wetly in the vivid, short green grass. Hermione landed behind her, looking around with interest at what must be her families' historical lands.
'There's something ahead.' Lady Grindelwald announced. She walked her mount forward, hooves squelching. Hermione could feel ancient magic, lying dormant around them like a heavy blanket. A dark shape appeared out of the mist, growing more solid as they approached until it could be made out as a massive standing stone. The matriarch stopped before it and Hermione pulled up next to her.
'The magic is dormant, perhaps if you were to reach out to it, it might awaken.' Lady Grindelwald suggested. Hermione nodded and reached out. The magic sparked instantly at her touch, life flaring through it and racing like fire out across esoteric connections that snaked like cords across the country. Across the distance, she could feel ancient spells and enchantments flaring back into life but all of it centred a short distance away in a pulsating core of power.
Beyond the stones, something was glowing. It grew steadily brighter and both witches realised quickly that it was approaching. They readied their wands as the mounts stirred uneasily.
A figure appeared from the fog; too substantial to be a ghost as his passing stirred the fog and his leather boots sucked and squelched as he walked. He wore a long, formless blue cloak that pegged at his right shoulder with an ornate pin and a red-brown tunic that fell to his knees below it. A leather sword belt hung at his waist and a wicked looking staff with a sharp, flint spearhead at the tip hung across his back. His hair was as bushy as Hermione's, and his gruff face was painted with deep blue swirls. It was these swirls that glowed with strange, otherworldly light and they seemed to shift across his skin, coiling into patterns and animals before unravelling to form something else entirely.
'It brings me great joy to see magic return to my line.' The man said, drawing to a halt just abreast of the stone. 'What is your name, child?'
'Hermione.' Hermione replied, more than a little awed. She could feel the magic that created this man - an incredibly complex enchantment that held his ghost inside this artificial construct and gave him solid form, bound and powered at the same time by the markings on his skin.
'And your companion?' The man now turned to Lady Grindelwald looking significantly less benevolent.
'This is Lady Grindelwald, who has taken me as her ward.' Hermione introduced as the matriarch inclined her head politely.
'We convey our thanks to your family, Lady Grindelwald.' The spectral being bowed at the waist.
'Hermione will be an asset to both our names.' The matriarch said an her accented English after a moment deciphering the strange accent that the being spoke with.
'I am Gorlois, who established our holdings. Come.' The wizard turned and Hermione nudged Katana into following him. A jangle of harness and creak of leather accompanied a similar movement by the German witch, the pack horse following after her.
The moment they cleared the stone, a wind rustled through her hair and clothes and the fog cleared in the interior of what was revealed to be a massive ring of standing stones. It was far, far bigger than any ring she'd seen so far and an unmistakable altar took stage in the centre; two tall stones rearing up behind it like a gateway. The spirit walked straight through the gateway, and across the circle. A corridor opened up in the mist on the other side; little mounds of stones marking the way. It was drier along this path, and they quickly left the ring of stones behind.
They hadn't ridden far when Gorlois stopped suddenly at was appeared to be a very large barrow. It was far too big to be a single grave, like the barrows that ringed the sites in Germany, and a small, dark cutout burrowed into it. Hermione dismounted, hanging onto Katana's stirrup for balance on the slick ground. Precariously, she made her way over to the doorway and followed the glowing of Gorlois' markings inside.
'May I cast a light?' Hermione asked after hitting her stooped head for the fourth time. Gorlois made an amused noise, but said nothing negative, so she let a light glow to life in her hand.
The cramped corridor went a long way before finally opening up into a larger room. Lady Grindelwald rose from hands and knees with an irritated huff and looked around in interest. There were three alcoves, two of which held ancient skeletons which bore long swords. Hermione wandered over to look at the ornate and obviously enchanted blade, then screeched and tumbled backwards when the skeleton bent forwards to inspect her too. Gorlois laughed with a deep, booming voice and the two skeletons clacked their jaws in a terrifying imitation.
'The dead speak often and my daughters told us of your coming. All who reside here are eager to meet the newest of our line.'
'All who reside here.' Hermione repeated faintly. Lady Grindelwald was taking deep, steadying breaths behind her, with an elegant hand clasped over her chest.
'Is it not customary for the ancestors to remain to guide and assist the living?' Gorlois seemed genuinely confused.
'No. We bury our dead now.' The young witch said firmly.
'Such a waste. One can accrue such knowledge and power in a lifetime, to let is all just... fade when one passes beyond the veil seems so pointless.' The being sighed sadly.
'Is every ancestor interred here?' Lady Grindelwald asked, sounding more than a little fearful.
'There are many, in different forms. Some, like these two, are physical guardians and others remain in spirit or art.' Gorlois answered. The skeletons chattered in agreement.
'Fascinating. The process is voluntary, I assume?'
Whatever horror and surprise Lady Grindelwald may have expressed upon first experiencing the undead guardians of the chamber were now firmly buried beneath academic curiosity. Hermione was certain nothing like this existed in Germany, or perhaps anywhere.
'We choose what we will become and the relevant spells are cast, ready to be activated by our death. The sacrifice of our passing powers the enchantments.'
'Voluntary human sacrifice, powerful indeed.' Lady Grindelwald mused in German. 'No wonder your family magic is so powerful for a line that has been absent for so long. Almost the entire magical power remains on this plane, as opposed to the mere impression left by our more... I suppose modern methods might be the more accurate term in this situation...'
She trailed off as the two skeletons stepped forwards, boned feet clacking sickeningly against the stone floor. They both twisted the pommels off their swords and slotted them into matching depressions either side of the third alcove, straight opposite the entrance. With a heavy grating noise a slab of stone lowered into the ground, revealing a pitch black staircase descending into the depths. The two skeletons retrieved their pommels and reattached them to their swords, then returned to their alcoves after bowing briefly to Hermione.
'Come.' Instructed Gorlois. The two witches shared a look, then followed him down the stairs.
It wasn't anywhere near as nasty as she had expected. The air was fresh and smelled of clean earth and peat. Somehow, despite being a subterranean passage in Scotland, the steps were dry and still solid.
They descended a reasonable way, perhaps the equivalent of two stories underground before they they passed though a stone doorway and into a long, vaulted cavern. It was perhaps fifty meters long and supported by massive arches of stone with doorways leading off into side rooms every ten meters or so. Between the doors stood more skeletons, all of whom started chattering excitedly when they appeared and waved various weapons in a manner that had Hermione wonder just how many family members had been killed by over-excited guardians. As if awakened by the commotion, glowing ghosts winked into existence around them and Hermione found herself ducking and weaving to avoid a series of morbid inspections and once, what seemed suspiciously like a horrendous embrace. Finally, she managed to get a glimpse inside the first side room.
Her breath caught at the sight within - it was a library, filled with massive books and scrolls, all looking as fresh as the day they were written. Carved into the stone walls were depictions of more ancestors, painted with bright depictions of clothing that were incredibly realistic considering the time period they must have been made in. One of the figures was familiar to her - dark hair and a green dress, Morgana winked one stone eye at her, then returned to reading the stone book she held in her hands. Gorlois seemed to have restored some calm into the main chamber by the time she arrived, and silent ranks of undead in various forms let her wander into the next room. This was full of enchanted swords and spears, preserved by magic. The variety was astounding and yet none of them held and resemblance to the delicate weapon that she had learned to wield. The bows were more familiar, and arrows filled barrels beneath them. The end wall contained tens of athames and knives - obsidian, iron, gold and bone. Some were decorated, others were plain and every one was razor sharp. With heavy, clacking steps, something approached and Hermione spun, half expecting another horrific undead family member. Instead, she was greeted by a stone figure. It was crudely carved, but the distinctive blue swirls that covered everyone here were painted boldly on rough hewn features.
'This is Galanan, our caretaker. He maintains this holding in the physical plane.' Gorlois introduced and Hermione curtsied. With a painful grating noise, Galanan bowed in return then with an eager, impossibly fast motion, he grabbed the wand out of her hand. She squealed in protest and tried to take it back but the statue held it up our of her reach.
'He just wants to see it. Wands were weak and unstable in our time, they are very different now. He will not damage it.' Gorlois reassured her and Hermione huffed irritably but allowed the statue to inspect it. He did hold it surprising delicately, and she could feel his vague magical presence probing it. Soon, seeming satisfied, he passed it back to her, then started poking her too. She yelped and tried to escape, but found herself pinned against the stone wall.
'Hermione? Come here, this is fascinating.' Lady Grindelwald called from another room. She escaped the probing fingers of the caretaker and scampered up the central corridor to where Lady Grindelwald stood at the pulsating magical core of the magic. The Grindelwald family centre was in the caves behind the waterfall, a fair distance from the castle. It was where Hermione had been taken almost half a year ago to join the family. They had a second heart though in the ward stone of the castle which seemed alive like this one.
Here however, both aspects seemed to be combined into one. A long, low slab that could have come straight from Stone Henge filled most of the room, almost as tall as the low ceiling and carved with more of those swirls, each depression filled with more deep blue paint.
'I've never seen runes mixed like this before. There's ancient Gothic runes here, and an almost flawless transition to these Pictish and even here, ancient Norse.' Hermione edged around the narrow corridor between stone and wall to where Lady Grindelwald was inspecting the stone, under strict supervision from a jaw-clacking skeletal guardian. 'See here, this is a different hand to these runes here. I think this is connected to the ritual stone circle, perhaps the stones are sentient... no, there's a wraith living in each stone. This here is the mechanism that opens the stairwell down here I believe. Ive just never seen it all written in one place! Oh, and look at this, this is a ward for a different location entirely! It looks like a ritual circle and they've used lay lines as directions.' Hermione couldn't read the runes and although she gathered from the matriarch's tone that the methodology was unusual, she saw no real problem with it. Instead, she wandered further around the stone until she emerged back out into the corridor.
'Come, it is time to take your place.' Gorlois announced, striding across the corridor to the room opposite. This one was very different - a crystalline waterfall trickled and dripped from the ceiling, pooling over slippery, worn rocks before running away through a grille in the wall. Built around the water was a short wall, keeping the dampness away from a large platform.
'What do I have to do?' She asked nervously; nothing she'd seen so far indicated that this ritual would be anything like she'd ever taken part in before.
'Wash.' He instructed. Hermione looked between him and the water dubiously. It looked very cold. She shrugged off her cloak, then looked at him expectantly. He stared impassively back at her.
'Wash. In the waterfall.' Gorlois instructed again.
'I know that. You're not watching me though.' Exclaimed the young witch, horrified.
'Who will bathe you?'
'I will!' She snapped. Gorlois seemed confused by her reticence to strip in front of him, which did not bode well for the future of this ritual. Perhaps, she considered, it was normal in his day for family members to go naked in front of one another - they often lived in single room buildings after all, but Gorlois hardly felt like family yet and she'd be reluctant to strip in front of her actual father, let alone some thousand year old grandfather.
'I will fetch your patron. She may assist you.' Gorlois finally compromised and Hermione sighed in relief. Lady Grindelwald arrived a moment later seeming more than a little amused and the older witch conjured a light curtain across the doorway to keep everyone else out.
It was an odd experience; there was more to the instruction to "bathe" than she had first assumed. Rather than the brisk, businesslike process of showering at home, this was more of a cleansing, both inside and out. The Lady Grindelwald sung as she worked, carefully rubbing soap into her hair and then working out every knot and tangle before rinsing it clean. Then she used a cloth to wipe Hermione's feet, and to painstakingly wash every inch of her body. The song shifted as the witch worked, gentle waves of magic caressing her in concert with the unfamiliar words.
There was a pile of unbleached linen cloth and, still singing, Lady Grindelwald dressed her in the plain, light robe.
A deep calm had descended over her, as though she was drifting on a cloud on a warm summer's day. Goosebumps pricked across her skin as Lady Grindelwald brushed her hair straight and fell silent.
As if they had been waiting for that moment, two ghostly women appeared through the curtain and a moment later a bowl of thick blue paint was slid beneath it. Both were similar in appearance, with the exception of their hair. It was difficult to tell as both women were a monochromatic silver-grey, but one had hair that was a similar light shade to her dress and was only slightly darker than her skin. The other had dark hair and a dark dress, a matching, heavy looking circlet on her brow.
There two ghosts began to sing as well; a similar tune to the song Lady Grindelwald had just been singing, but in a different language. It was soft and crooning like the gentle ebb and flood of the tide but with a grandeur that stopped it being anything like a lullaby. Under their silent directions, Lady Grindelwald picked up the bowl of pungent paint and a paintbrush. She too began to sing again in her own language, her powerful voice blending and swelling with the two ghosts. Echoes of fingers traced lines over her skin, the coolness of the brush following behind them; three thick lines down over her left eye and a bold line beneath her right. Then the witches shifted their tune, this time there was a tempo created by sharp, staccato words as the outline of something that could be a hammer, or a double sided axe was painted on her right shoulder. Two zig zag lines ran down her arm to her elbow like lightening bolts, then across the back of her hand an x shape with a circle between her ring and middle fingers was drawn. The song changed again as they began on her left arm, the notes swelling into loud, clashing emphasis crescendo with the dark haired ghost chanting a deep, menacing undertone. A line of jagged peaks circled her left bicep, then a wavy line cut though each peak.
The song quieted again as they painted her legs with lines and moons, paying particular attention to her feet and the top of her thighs. As the last curling, three pronged shape was finished the song drew to a close on a final, ringing note.
Lady Grindelwald smiled at Hermione, then stood in one smooth motion. Her fingers were stained blue and her hair had dried into a tangled knot and she looked incredibly odd in the plain, shapeless linen robe she wore. The matriarch inclined her head, then left the room.
Outside, a strange noise began. It was a rhythmic clacking, loud and echoing - clack, clack, thud! Clack, clack, thud!
The two ghosts rose smoothly, untouchable hands brushing Hermione's elbows to let her know to follow.
Clack clack thud! Clack clack thud!
With each thud she took a step forwards, crossing the room slowly. With one painted hand she pushed the curtain aside and stepped through on the next thud.
The long, low room was packed with figures - the clacking and thudding was the skeletons, sitting on the stone floor. They slapped the ground with their left hand; clack, clack, then slammed the pommel of their weapon into the ground with their other; thud.
A single voice, deep and masculine called out and the rows of ghostlike figures echoed back the same words, their voices rising in pitch. A single, crystalline female voice cried out the first words of another song and the chant was taken up to the beat of the hands and hilts on the floor. She continued stepping forwards, one foot in front of the other until she reached the stairs. It was obvious where she was meant to go, so she started up them. The skeletons and ghosts crowded up behind her, stamping their feet and smacking their weapons against the wall as the ghosts continued to sing their grandiose song.
The sun was setting, shining straight through the entrance corridor and illuminating the barrow with warm, golden light. She kept walking forwards, stepping in time with the beat of feet and hands. Leading the host of undead, she made her way out into the open and followed the cairns to the ritual circle. The two mounts shied away nervously but she didn't notice, her gaze fixed on the ritual stone where the small figure of Gorlois awaited them.
As they passed each cairn, a ghoulish wraith rose from it, adding unearthly shrieks to the chanting.
Magic rippled over her as she passed into the massive circle. Then, as the dead that followed her passed through, they shimmered, flesh and skin covering bones and spectral forms becoming solid.
Crack crack thud!
They halted suddenly at the altar, the host fanning out to encircle them.
In the sudden silence a gull cried, wheeling overhead and deep throated frogs croaked.
'A new age is upon us. A child has been born with the gift of our line, strong and healthy. I present to you, Hermione.' He spread his arms wide to gesture to her. The onlookers banged their swords together, stamped their feet and cheered as she was gently pushed up to the altar. They were a dazzling array of witches and wizards of all ages and periods - all of whom bore the inhuman swirls of blue paint on their skin.
'For centuries we have slumbered. Kingdoms have fallen, empires crumbled, our names all but forgotten. But not we have been awakened, once more shall our magic touch this earth, once more shall we take our place on the stage of legends.' He spread his arms wide, bellowing over the clashing of swords and staffs. 'Let us remind the world of the power that together, we wield.'
As one the crowd surged forwards, closing on the altar. Hands reached out, touching the stone slab. Those that couldn't reach touched those behind them until they were surrounded by a sea of wild hair and pale, painted hands.
She received no warning when magic suddenly roared through her, individual and singular at the same time, stamped with the identity and individual magic of everyone present, yet all carrying that wild, bright wind.
'From each to the whole we give ourselves, with many as one, do as you will.' The voices roared through the air and through the magic.
'Forge the connection, Hermione. Become one of us.' Gorlois whispered in her ear. The wind that was roaring around them send his hair whipping into her face, mingling with her own as their clothes snapped in the gale the joined family magic created. Tentatively, she reached out with her own magic.
The moment she touched it, it exploded in wind and fire. The ancient power of her ancestors joined cataclysmically with hers and the wind howled. The sky darkened as their primal magical energy spun clouds into storms, reaching across the country and announcing to all who could read the signs that the line of Gorlois had returned. She could feel distant, alien beings as they reached out, cautiously testing to see who this new power was.
Waves crashed into the rocky shore, rain and spray lashed their faces and the stones channeled the wind into an ear-splitting scream. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, lighting the faces that were now upturned into the rain. Blue paint ran in rivulets, streaming down to pool in the low of the stone. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled.
'To the High Priestess!' Gorlois bellowed over the noise.
'The High Priestess!' The assembled bellowed.
Lightning flashed, thunder boomed and the earth shook. Hermione was blasted off the altar like a rag doll, landing heavily on the soggy ground. The wind silenced, the clouds cleared to reveal winking stars. A hand reached down to her.
She grasped it and was hauled to her feet. The ring of stones was chaos - skeletons were trying to reassemble themselves, hunting down missing bones and body parts but clacking their jaws in a way that seemed more happy than concerned. Ghosts drifted, stunned as other, more cognisant ghosts wafted wraiths back towards their relevant stones and cairns.
'What happened?' She asked, ears still ringing. Gorlois grinned, his hair standing up wildly in all directions, and led her towards the alter.
There, in the dip where the paint had pooled and at the centre of a starburst of carbon, lay a ring. Gorlois picked it up gingerly between his large fingers and passed it to her. She took it, inspecting the knotted, dark metal and woad blue stone. There was a carving depressed into it, some kind of wolf-dog creature. It was nothing like the ornate seals of the Coven families, but it was hers. She closed her fingers over it, determined to find a chain as soon as possible.
Then Lady Grindelwald was there with a smile and an unexpected hug. She drew away quickly, but Hermione was left shell shocked by the public display of affection. Then, to Hermione's utter surprise, Lady Grindelwald, High Witch, curtsied to her.
'Congratulations, High Priestess.'