'Did you feel that?' Berg asked suddenly, pausing as he stirred the spicy stew he was making with the meaty thighs of Gellert's latest kill.
'Yes.' Gellert replied, for that powerful magical storm was unmissable, despite how distant it had felt.
'You don't think that was Dumortier, do you?' Berg nervously tapped his conjured ladle again the edge of the conjured cauldron.
'Maybe. I've never heard of any magic that does that.'
'Neither...' and if Berg hadn't heard of it, it probably didn't exist. 'I mean, it didn't do anything, it was just there.'
'Loudly.' Gellert added. Berg didn't see the humour and nodded sagely, then returned to the stew, stirring it once more before ladling it out into bowls.
It was delicious - although Berg was the better cook of the two, Gellert couldn't wait to show off his new cooking skills to Hermione when he got home. After much experimentation, the boys had learned that the muscle over the back legs of most animals was a reliably tasty meal and Gellert could now skin and fillet the meat in a matter of minutes. He was certain Hermione would be impressed by his knowledge of the spices and how they mixed together and he couldn't wait to get her back for the baking incident with the flour and water. He couldn't wait for her to rub her eyes after chopping the little red chillies.
His train of thought was interrupted as Berg handed him a bowl of piping hot soup and he wrapped his fingers around it gratefully. It was cold at nights now and although they wore every item of clothing that they had been given, they kept having to reapply warming charms. When they were flying, even those weren't enough and they'd taken to taking it in turns to clamber over the harness and curl up inside the cargo blanket on Star's belly.
'We need to stop somewhere - get more clothes.' Gellert began. They'd had this exact conversation every night for days, but this time there was a new urgency to it - they had spotted, in the distance as they came in to land, the first blindingly white patches of snow were nestled in the low spots around their campsite.
'I know, you want to get them from the cabin you saw.' Berg sighed heavily. Neither boy particularly wanted to have to steal the clothes, especially from someone who probably couldn't afford to replace them as they came into winter.
'It looked large enough, and whoever owned it had plenty of livestock.'
'You've already said this. I agree, its just...' Berg hesitated, then he gulped down the rest of his stew and stood quickly. 'Alright, lets do this.'
Gellert copied him, dropping the bowl. Star blinked at them, then tucked his head back under his wing when he saw they were planning to go somewhere on foot and he wasn't needed.
Berg may have developed spectacular agility in the air, scrambling around Star's harness without hesitation whilst thousands of feet in the air, but the ability hadn't carried onto land. He kept tripping over branches and smacking into trees. Gellert didn't understand it because to him it didn't seem anywhere near dark enough to be physically walking into things. Compared to Berg, he virtually ghosted through the trees like a creature of the night himself.
The hut was half an hour away. Firelight flickered in one of the windows, shining through the gaps between shutters, but the other window remained dark. Between them and the building was an expanse of frosted grass and dark vegetable patches. A cow lowed from a medium sized barn and fluffy goats huddled miserably beneath a tree on the other side of the building.
'You sneak in, get the clothes. I'll keep watch. If we're spotted, I'll make a racket so you know to run.' Berg decided and Gellert nodded.
Crossing the moonlit grass was considerably quieter than trekking through the woods. The goat's heads shot up and gleaming green eyes watched them cross the space until they disappeared into the cover of the cabin. Berg paused beneath the sill of the bright window whilst Gellert kept moving, the slight crunch of his footsteps on the grass disguised by the chattering woman's voice inside.
He reached the dark window and reached up, feeling up the rough wooden surface until he reached a cool metal bolt. He pushed his magic outwards, performing a silent, wandless unlocking charm and a moment later the windows opened on silent hinges.
He slithered over the frame and found himself in a generous bedroom; unusually generous when he considered the size of the hut. He wouldn't have guessed it to have anywhere near this exterior dimension.
He crossed the floorboards carefully, testing each plank before putting his full weight on it. There was a small pile of books on the bedside table and a large wardrobe taking up one wall. He headed for that, opening one of the tall doors and easily finding everything he could want or need. There was an apothecary's satchel hung on the back of the door and he quickly stuffed it full of fur hats and gloves, woollen socks and scarves. The robes were all far too big to be safe whilst they were flying, but he grabbed a pair of thick wool and fur cloaks. He shrugged on cloak over his shoulders and tucked the other through the strap of the bag before retreating back to the window. He had one leg slung over the frame when shouting and yelling erupted from the room over. Light flooded the grass as the shutters were thrown open, lighting the feeling figure of Berg as he scrambled away.
Gellert dropped to the ground beneath the sill just as the door to the bedroom opened with a crash. Heavy footsteps pounded across the floor, stopping above his head. He held his breath, desperately hoping the man wouldn't look down...
He bellowed something, a large, meaty hand reaching for Gellert who rolled quickly away and scrambled to his feet, dashing headlong across the stretch of open land to the relative safety of the trees. A furious roar sent the goats scattering as the man followed, leaping out of the window and gaining on him with mighty strides.
A hand closed on the trailing edge of the cloak, dragging Gellert to a choking stop. He managed to keep his balance, then lost it as the man crashed into him. They both fell and Gellert kicked and bit as they went down, tangling both their legs in the too-long cloak and taking a heavy elbow to the eye.
He lost quickly, the much larger man pinning him to the frozen dirt and holding him there with a painful knee to the small of his back. For a moment both of them just wheezed in an attempt to catch their breath.
A bright flash of crimson spell fire lit the night and the weight on his back disappeared. Gellert didn't pause. He pushed himself back to his feet, swept up the bag and second cloak and plunged into the woods. Neither boy stopped running until they reached where Star was roosting.
The bird was standing, wings spread before they even reached him. Gellert threw himself at the first start in the harness, hauling himself up with practiced ease then turning to retrieve the roughly bundled cargo blanket with their remaining rice and beans. The moment he had ahold of it, Berg jumped for the strap in the same manner as Gellert had moments before and a second later, Star's powerful legs launched them into the air.
They flew for less than an hour before setting down again - far enough to make muggle pursuit almost impossible.
Berg dropped to the ground as soon as they landed, closely followed by Gellert.
'What happened?' Gellert demanded, distributing their stolen clothing and repacking the rest of it into the bag.
'Bloody goats. They came around the corner and started butting their heads at me. One of them had a nasty set of horns and got me in the... delicates.' Berg muttered. His hand nursed his delicates tenderly as he spoke and Gellert grimaced in empathy. It was bad enough that he'd been caught by a horn in the first place and their hasty retreat had probably only exacerbated the issue.
'How about I take the first watch? We should probably keep an eye out incase they managed to follow us.' Gellert suggested, settling himself deeply into the fur of his cloak. Berg shuffled over to the cargo blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders before rolling over and falling quiet.
In the first moment of silence, his mind wandered again to his family back home. He didn't know exactly how long had passed since they'd left Durmstrang, but he was certain Samhain had long passed. If he had to place a guess, he would put the date at some time in November. That meant that Yule decorations would begin soon. He wondered who had been given his position as the Sun; Berg would have been his first guess, but Berg was with him. Perhaps it would go to Dominick Wach, or one of the Hawdon twins?
He wondered if Hermione and the coven were still searching for them? Had they given up? His mother was still alive, he was certain. He would feel it, he thought, if he became family heir. Experimentally, he called for Klein, but there was no answering crack of elfin appearance, which meant he was not yet the elf's master and as such his mother still held the position of Matriarch. Hermione, there was no way to check... except... except for that magic earlier.
It hadn't been Hermione, of that he was certain. He knew her magic as well as he knew his own; she was all blazing white fire and scorching heat. That magic had been grey and stormy, powerful, ancient and alien. It was not Hermione but he had felt such magic once before - on the night that Hermione's family magic took over the harvest ritual.
It was not Hermione, but it was Hermione's family magic.
It should have reassured him but it really didn't; that sheer amount of magic just couldn't be safely controlled by a single witch or wizard. Even if she'd somehow saved herself from whatever prompted such a massive display, she would have certainly burned herself out in the process.
He desperately wanted to get home but at the same time he dreaded learning what had happened in his absence.