Hermione found herself paralysed by nerves when she woke up on the morning of Yule. She was ready, more than ready, she knew. Her casting was strong and fast, she was powerful even without using her family magic, which she wasn't meant to. She'd had tutors, from Lady Grindelwald herself to the coven to an ancient dark knight.
Mordred was present and even without seeing what he was doing, Hermione was willing to put her entire allowance on him drawing blue swirls on her battle dress.
With that small spark of amusement she sat up and found to her amusement that she had been exactly correct. He was drawing runes and muttering a string of words beneath his breath like a chant. He continued for a moment after she sat up, finishing whatever part he was working on before turning to her with a bright smile. She returned it weakly.
'Nervous? I was terrified before my first battle.' He admitted.
'Who was it against?' She asked eagerly. Mordred very rarely spoke about his life and she loved any tidbits he gave her. She'd taken out every rendition of the Arthurian legends that she could get her hands on in the muggle world and she immensely enjoyed learning how events had actually unfolded.
'Saxons.' Mordred answered briefly, then changed the subject to the weather - very subtle.
Realistically though, these considerations were important. It was cool and dry, streaks of white clouds painted across a pale blue sky. The sun was weak but bright, just peaking over the frosted ridges and setting the icicles on her window melting into sparkling droplets.
'Will you watch?' She asked.
'I'll try.' He promised. She still didn't entirely understand the constraints on his manifestation, unlike the others she'd met so far. Gorlois looked and felt living, but he couldn't leave the family properties, the skeletons were... well... skeletons. She suspected he couldn't actually touch the sword he inhabited, and perhaps there was a certain range he could travel from it. What she didn't understand was why he manifested in varying solidity, sometimes barely even a spirit and other times solid enough to whack with a sword.
She dressed, taking his advice to wear as little as possible beneath the battle dress, despite the temptation to wrap up in all her furs. Instead, she donned a thick cloak to keep her warm. She didn't dare wear the crown, not when it hadn't been specified in the rules and the item was so heavily enchanted. Lady Grindelwald knocked gently at her door before letting herself in. The matriarch nodded briefly to the spirit, then swept over to inspect Hermione from head to toe. In exactly the same matter as Hermione had minutes earlier, she sighed in fond exasperation at the artwork drawn onto her robes.
'Ready Hermione?' The witch asked, straightening Hermione's collar and tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear.
'I think so.' She said, trying to sound confident.
'You'll do well, now come along, it's almost time.'
Hermione quickly picked up Mordred's sword and followed her matriarch down the tower to the ground floor. The castle was deserted; everyone already waiting at the ring that had been pegged out the day before. She practiced the breathing exercises Mordred had taught her to calm herself and wake her magic. Anger and fear would make her magic instinctive and uncontrollable, so she needed to calm herself. Control, accuracy, efficiency were the keys to winning.
They heard the crowd before they saw them, a babble of excited talk rolling over the grounds. Witches and wizards mobbed the walls, thronged the air on broomsticks and crowded the grass beyond the gates. A path was marked by stakes and string and a hush fell as she began to make her way down it. Within moments, everyone was silent. Necks craned to catch a glimpse of Hermione as she passed.
The arena was about twenty meters wide and probably half again as long, marked by stakes and string and a ring of protective wards to keep the spectators safe. It was neatly marked in the space just in front of the gates, so there was a slight unevenness to the floor from the many beasts that traversed the area. Otherwise it was flat dirt with a slight buzz of green grass towards the edges. A wooden platform had been built at both ends, one platform for each party. The opposite one was still empty but Herr Lintzen was sat in a throne like chair on his platform at the midpoint of the pitch. His left leg was still heavily bandaged but he held his wand ready and his staff leaned up against his arm.
Lady Grindelwald took her seat on their platform and Hermione sat next to her, centre stage. She propped up Mordred's sword against her seat and glanced sideways to the chair designated for her second. Gellert was still absent and would not be filling the position. Her heart panged painfully and she forcefully redirected her thoughts. She really should start saturating the area with her magic and familiarising herself with what she had to work with on that particular day.
That was how she felt the approaching part long before they crested the rise. She opened her eyes to see Alice at the front of a band of witches and wizards. She wore bright white robes and could have looked angelic if it wasn't for the dark expression on her face. She paused briefly on her platform as the man that followed right behind her took his seat. She felt Lady Grindelwald tense beside her and curse. Behind them, murmurs suggested a number of the crowd recognised the wizard.
Hermione didn't recognise the man, but within moments Alice's party was settled and Herr Lintzen called them forwards and she had no more time to consider it. She stood, shared a nod with Mordred, who had somehow changed his clothing so that he wore a long, navy cloak. He could have passed as a modern wizard. Lady Grindelwald pressed a soft kiss to her brow and sent her off with a wish for luck.
Then, Hermione was alone. Her boots crunched in the gravel, the sound of the crowd faded and her focus zeroed on Alice. The other witch had grown since they'd last met both physically and magically and she towered over Hermione when they finally stopped, chest to chest in front of Herr Lintzen.
'Been letting the children at your robes, Hermione?' Alice sneered, looking her over from head to toe.
'Never seen Pictish runes?' Hermione hissed in return, tossing her braid over her shoulder. Alice's expression wavered slightly, then hardened again. Hermione smirked. 'Well, get on with it then.'
Both witches reached out with their right hands, clasping wrists so that the matching black bangles they wore clinked together. Herr Lintzen hobbled over, leaning heavily on his staff.
'Hermione, ward of the ancient house of Grindelwald. I, Alice, Matriarch of the ancient house of Tunninger...' The rest of Alice's repeated challenge was drowned in cries of fear and rage from the assembled witches and wizards. For Alice to have received the title, her parents must be dead and the last anyone knew of it, both Tunninger parents had been in the custody of Alice's allies.
'You... you killed your parents?' Hermione hissed, tightening her grip around the other witch's wrist.
'Of course I did, after your little outburst at Harvest I knew I wouldn't stand a chance without my own family magic to back me up. Neither of my parents would even talk to me, let along pass on the title. So I took it.' Alice sneered condescendingly. 'Now come along, its your turn.'
'You bitch. Alice, Matriarch of the ancient house of Tunninger, I, Hermione Granger, High Priestess, daughter of Gorlois and ward of the ancient house of Grindelwald accept your challenge. I named Gellert, son of Frederich of the ancient house of Grindelwald as my second.'
'I name Philip Dumortier as my second.' Alice glanced behind her as the tall, adult wizard stepped up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. She felt the cold absence of Gellert keenly and wished it wasn't against the rules to change one's second. Adding a second where there hadn't been one before? It seemed that was allowed.
Herr Lintzen scowled heavily at Alice and her second and tapped their wrists unnecessarily hard, repeating the rules of the tournament.
At the warden's command, Dumortier retreated to the back of the arena, then silence fell. Hermione and Alice curtsied to one another, then turned their backs and paces five steps apart. Hermione spun sharply on her heel as soon as she was permitted to, nervous that Alice might try something whilst she wasn't looking. Alice turned at a far more leisurely pace, flicking her wand out with a twirl of her sleeve. Hermione drew hers from its holster and took up an opening stance; her left foot forwards, left and stretched out with palm down and right arm curved up over her head with wand pointed directly at her opponent. It was quite a defensive stance, but was one of the easiest to start with for one of the ancient, elemental spells that Mordred had taught her.
Alice had taken up a more common form which suggested she would be going straight onto the offensive. Hermione shifted fractionally, preparing to move sideways to avoid whatever spell the other witch opened with. Ideally, she could avoid shielding as much as possible, after all she had two fights to fight today.
Then, as Herr Tunninger began counting down, she started drawing up her magic, pooling it in her hand. She watched the slight flicker of nerves twitch through Alice as the magic glowed brightly in Hermione's palm, whilst the young witch's wand lit blue at the tip.
'Two,' Herr Tunninger called. Hermione had missed the beginning of the countdown. The young witch carefully held the power; it was important that not even a wisp escaped early or she'd be breaking the rules of the duel.
'One.' She released both freezing charms at once. The temperature plummeted even as the wand-spell exploded into crystalline shards against Alice's shield. A second later she dove sideways as a jet of purple flew over her shoulder. Hermione swirled her left hand and the air moved with it, as she added water to it with her wand. Within minutes they were separated by an arctic snowstorm. She stopped adding snow but kept swirling her hand, with her wand she cast a quick detection charm and found Alice had moved. Before Hermione could cast, a horizontal pulse sliced through her storm. She dropped into a crouch as it scythed the air above her, then send three silent jinxes at the spot Alice had last been.
Alice quickly tired of the snowstorm, and began trying to dismantle it. She cast finite several times, a flash of gold illuminating the swirls of snow, then followed up with several more ineffectual spells that Hermione assumed were also cancelling charms of some kind. Unfortunately for Alice, there was no spell to cancel, so Hermione used her distraction to solidify some of the snow into an icy wall for cover.
A spell whizzed over her head and Hermione cursed, realising she'd lost track of Alice's position. She ducked, casting another locating charm then threw herself sideways as the spot she'd been standing exploded into a cloud of dust and gravel leaving a crater.
Her ice wall took another blasting charm for her and Hermione scrambled up and several more feet to the left. Alice's white robes were a much better camouflage than Hermione's black ones in this snow, so Hermione gave up on it.
She threw both hands out in a powerful instruction for stillness, letting her magic take control and enforce her will. Everything stopped, the snow hung midair, the wind fell silent. This time, she didn't make the mistake of relaxing. She used a colour changing charm to switch the snow to black, and suddenly Alice stood out like a ghost in the night. Hermione blasted her with a dazzling array of jinxes which were deflected by equally bright white shield charms.
She didn't like it. Alice was as faster than she was. She needed to slow the duel down, turn it from a challenge of speed to one of skill.
She dodged a jet of fire and ducked back into the drifting black snowflakes.
A moment later, the ground beneath Alice's feet became spongy and her next volley of spells flew wide. The older witch paused to cast finite and Hermione grinned wildly. Finite was not efficient.
Hermione turned gravel into spiders and sent them scuttling along the black snow, invisible and with painful bites. Alice grunted and seared the ground around her with a billow of flame, then directed the flame out in an uncontrolled tongue around them. It melted the snow into a thick cloud of steam which Hermione waved away with a casual breeze.
The two opponents faced one another again and watched, figures tense. Alice was breathing heavily, Hermione noted smugly.
The older witch snapped both hands forward, wand clasped between them. Black smoke poured out, solidifying into a black panther, taller than Hermione and with glowing eyes. She had no idea what to do, or even what it was. She tried a quick blast of fire, which the animal just ate, then it pounced at her. She literally threw herself sideways, landing heavily on the ground and tried to distract Alice with a conjured scarf, intent in strangling her.
The panther spun and swiped at her with a paw. Hermione was thrown sideways across the arena but her cry of pain was drowned out by the yowl of pain and fear from the panther. She glanced at it as corrosive gold light ate away the paw it had just swiped her with. One of the Pictish runes Mordred had painted that morning glowed with bright light and Hermione grinned viciously and animated the six trees behind Alice.
They shook themselves, branches clacking together. Two trees tore up their roots in explosions of dirt and advanced on Alice as the closest lunged at her with spear-like branches. A quick bit of wand work had them fireproof. She let Alice throw herself at the trees for a bit whilst she dodged the disintegrating panther.
Then, she felt the exact moment Alice reached for her family magic. Once, she had done it, well... Hermione could too.
Even as the trees were blasted into splinters, Hermione reached for her own magic. She felt them answer, her family, scattered across the distant British Isles. The two magics exploded against each other, golden Tunninger fire blasted into Gorlois wind. The two climbed up, battering one another in a sheer battle of power. Hermione quickly delegated control of it to Mordred, who worked through their Sect bond to channel through her. The sheer battle of strength didn't falter as Hermione separated her own magic from it and began to weave her own enchantment.
Alice's eyes were wild, reflecting the towering fire of her magic with demonic gleam. Her skin gleamed with sweat from the intensity of the magic - too much for a single person to sustain, but unlike Alice, Hermione was not alone. The air in front of her shimmered with heat, so Alice didn't notice the additional shimmer of the barrier Hermione built around her. Then, the young witch burned the oxygen out of the air in a flash of light and fire. For a moment, Alice just seemed confused, the fire hadn't hurt her.
Then a hand flew to her throat. The teenage witch panicked, her magic lost all direction and blasted outwards in a harmless wave with no intention. A moment later, Alice was unconscious. Gorlois wind blew out the last of the Tunninger fire. Hermione had won.
The audience applauded.
For a moment, she basked in her victory. Mordred looked exhausted by happy and Lady Grindelwald was clapping enthusiastically.
Then a cold voice called out across the arena. Dumortier stepped forwards.
'I fulfil my obligations as second.' He called in German. Hermione didn't know the language well enough to pick accents, but he sounded like it certainly wasn't his first language.
She turned, gathering every scrap of magic she could find inside herself.
'Dumortier, you are bound by the obligations of the Treaty of Barre.' Lady Grindelwald's voice carried across the duelling ground.
'The Treaty of Barre has already been broken; two of your own have attacked my encampment. Under the terms of the treaty, I may do as I please.' The tall wizard sneered. A flash of green blasted from his wand, something seemed to soar over her head and Hermione hit the dirt. That was not a minor jinx. Something told Hermione that if that spell hit her, she would be worse than unconscious.
She rolled sideways just in time, another bolt of green hit the ground. Mordred cried out something and Hermione jerked her wand. A wall of stone ground up and she was left gasping at the sudden expenditure of magic. The wall shook; once, twice, three times under the impact of some curse.
'Priestess, move!' Mordred bellowed. Hermione scrambled sideways as the wall exploded into lethal stone shards.
A hand snatched the back of her robes, dragging her up to her feet and a wand dug into the soft skin of her throat. The wizard chuckled darkly, his chest rumbling against her back. His other hand wrapped around her wrists, holding her hands in front of her so that she couldn't cast.
'Today, Lady Grindelwald, will go down in history. You see this is the end, after today there will be no more ancient family legacy... your son is lost, your ward is about to die, and your castle... well, this duel was a rather wonderful distraction.'
As he spoke, the ground shook ominously. Something bright glowed in the sky, starting far above and spreading downwards in a golden ring. It widened, growing bigger and brighter, then the sound reached them. It started as a tinkling, like falling glass, then grew to a roar. Faces turned upwards, pale with fear as the ancient, powerful Grindelwald wards crumbled around them.
Lady Grindelwald screamed, a sound of loss and pain. Hermione drove her metal-heeled foot hard into the soft leather of Dumortier's boot. Her elbow drove into his groin and he stumbled backwards. She leapt forwards, scrambling to grab her dropped wand from the floor.
A piercing, animalistic screech rent the air, and the ground shuddered. She spun to see a elephantine bird crush the wizard between gargantuan talons. A cry brought her eyes skyward, and there, perched atop the bird's back, looking tanned and hungry but otherwise healthy was Gellert. She called out his name, and he called hers, but any other reunion was spoiled by the battlecry of the witches and wizards that had accompanied Dumortier.
They surged forwards, wands flashing as the civilian crowd that had watched the duel trampled one another in their desperate surge back through the gates. A witch on a thestral swept down and picked up Herr Lintzen as the others began raining attacks from above. Hermione dashed for the far end of the arena and scooped up Mordred's sword. The undead wizard was a couple of feet away, lopping limbs off a witch even as her spells passed straight through his semi-transparent form. She spun, a spell glancing off the protective enchantments in her battle dress, then the bird swept overhead again. Gellert hung from underneath it, clinging on like a spider and casting spells left and right. She lashed out with the sword whilst the attacking wizard tried to untangle his jinxed legs and knocked him out with the flat of the blade. He crumpled into a mound of dark robes.
Everywhere she looked, people were fighting; civilians and coven members alike. Even in the thick of the mob that surged for the gates, people fought. Sparks and jets of light shot overhead and glanced off shields. People cried out in pain and fear, incantations and explosions making communication almost impossible.
'High Priestess!' Mordred bellowed, despite being right next to her ear. She nodded obviously to show that she was listening, but didn't look at him. She blocked a curse from a ginger haired witch, then sent one in retaliation that was blocked with equal ease. Mordred cast something with a cry in his ancient language and the woman was thrown backwards by a scythe of darkness.
'The prisoners.' He cast a shield for her, deflecting a nasty looking purple spell that fizzled and hissed when it hit the ground. She thanked him but wasn't sure if he heard as a thestral crashed next to them, ploughing up dirt and gravel. 'Their camp must be almost empty.' He grunted, sniping the wizard that had brought down the thestral.
Hermione nodded and waved frantically to Gellert and Berg on their bird. They spotted her, wheeled around and swept down. Talons closed around her waist and massive wings thudded either side. The sword dug into her stomach and made her great full she'd sheathed it before flagging down her brother and his unconventional mount.
'Hermione!' A familiar voice called and she crammed her neck to see Gellert perched above her, hanging onto a strap of fabric with only a hand and his feet. Her stomach dropped for him, even as he swung easily to shoot a spell back behind them.
'We need to get to their camp!' She called to him, the wind tearing words from her mouth as the bird banked sharply to avoid a spell. Gellert gave her a thumbs up and scrambled away like an ant up the straps. She swallowed, hoping desperately that the bird could carry her in it's claws and she wouldn't have to make that terrifying climb.
She didn't.
The bird banked again, this time swooping down to the cluster of tents nestled just back from the fighting. They landed on one of the smaller tents, crushing it with a noise of tearing canvas and breaking wood. A moment later she was set down ever so gently, then Gellert dropped beside her almost soundlessly. His arms wrapped around her and he lifted her effortlessly, spinning her then putting her down for a deeper embrace. He had grown.
'Hermione.'
'Gellert. I'm so glad you're okay.'
'I'm glad you're okay too. I felt that magic... what's happened? The castle? The coven?' He drew back, his eyes searching hers for answers. She faltered slightly because they really didn't have time for the full story now.
'Some of the coven are missing. We should see if we can find out what's happened to them whilst they're all away. I'll speak to you more when this is over.' She swung Mordred's sword over her back, fastened the buckle and checked her wand. Then, without waiting for any more word from the boys, she headed for the largest tent.