Things went quiet for a while; suspiciously quiet. It left everyone anxious and jumpy despite their quality of life being vastly improved. The weather warmed and the snow finally melted, replaced by a frosting of greenery and the bright pinpricks of flowers. The view from the rooms that had once belonged to Lady Grindelwald was nowhere near as spectacular as that from the tower Hermione had lived in before the siege. Now, she overlooked the bedraggled gardens and crumbling stone walls of the Summer Courtyard, which was where Alice and her troops waited just beyond the temporary wards.
As Hermione watched, a figure with familiar brown hair wandered out into the sunlit patch between tents, stretching her white-clad arms and turning her face up to the sun. Hermione wished she could punch the other girl right in the nose.
'There you go, Missy Hermione.' Flighty stepped back beaming at her and Hermione turned to face the mirror. Silver was definitely not her colour, but the seamstress Klemme and her apprentice Atalanta had done a masterful job of recycling one of Lady Grindelwald's gowns into a smaller one of Hermione to wear to this ritual. The crown of flowers around her head was far less cultivated this year - daffodils, primroses and little pinpricks of white blackthorn flowers with none of the large, voluminous blooms that had grown in the Grindelwald's gardens. The most important flower was still missing though, and she blew into cupped hands. A crimson flower unfurled in her hands, petals like ruffled flames and not a hint of blue in sight.
She left the room to find Gellert waiting for her just outside his door. He too held a flower and they shyly exchanged them, then joined Berg outside. He was wearing a flower as well, and Neele hovered just behind him with a flower tucked into her hair as well. The two witches waved at each other and Hermione gave Berg a brief, sisterly hug before the group made their way downstairs.
There was a general movement of witches and wizards in that direction, dressed in a vibrant palette of spring colours. They joined the queue at the floo, chatting idly about how the day would go and, to the amusement of the two girls, the boys bemoaned the mountain of schoolwork that had arrived via owl several days ago.
They stepped through to find the boat shed had been bedecked in garlands of flowers (why it was called that, Hermione didn't know. The only water she could see was the moat which was several hundred meters away). They joined the rest of the wixen trailing towards the drawbridge. Like Hogmanay, there was a strange magic already buzzing in the air. She skipped down the path, Gellert dragging behind her in a half jog, laughing all the way. Adults nodded to them respectfully as they passed and Hermione waved in reply.
The altar here was far more spectacular than the one they'd used last year; the people had taken to decorating with a fervour to stave off the boredom. Lady Grindelwald assigned them each a group as they came in, Hermione grinned at her matriarch before dropping Gellert's hand and flouncing up to the massive cauldron on the altar. She waved to the girls lined up behind, each clutching an ingredient in their hands, then took her place.
Looking out at the assembled crowd, she couldn't help but notice how many people weren't here. Last year, with almost every German witch and wizard present, there had been over a thousand gathered at this festival. Now, they had lost a number to Alice and her revolution and the students had all remained at Durmstrang for the holidays and there were barely even seven hundred. It was several hundred less than she'd performed in front of for Samhain, and this was a far easier ritual. The family magic had woken briefly, stretching out to find out what was happening, then rapidly gone dormant again, apparently uninterested.
It was as easy as she'd been told it would be, but she took no less care with the brewing for that fact. As she called each ingredient and it was imbued with the magic of those assembled, she concentrated on stirring exactly in a clockwise spiral, then changed to anti-clockwise after adding the bleeding heart. Exactly as it was meant to, pearlescent smoke began to pour out of the cauldron and she carefully pulled a flower from her matriarch's crown. Then she rounded the circle, collecting armfuls of leaves and flowers from everyone present and dropping them into the potion as well. Several times she met Gellert's eyes and she winked each time, a silly grin crossing her face. He looked giddy with happiness as well, perhaps because Mordred wasn't here today.
She added the last armful of greenery and the potion swallowed it with a belch of more pink steam. She spluttered and coughed, trying to clear her lungs of the thick, heady scent of cinnamon. When she looked up again, Gellert was laughing, surrounded by clouds of pink mist. He held our a hand to her and she grasped it, noticing the crimson flower-butterflies fluttering away together out of the corner of her eye.
'Taste good?' Gellert asked, grinning.
'Fantastic.' She replied sarcastically. He patted her on the back then took her hand again, leading her through the mist to a wooden bench. She smiled, recognising it as the one from the little holiday cottage they always rented in Yorkshire; Gellert must have remembered it from last year. She sat, smoothing her skirts as she did and marvelling briefly at how accustomed she was to the long-skirted 19th century dresses by now. She glanced over at Gellert and the stray thought crossed her mind that if she were to marry in the future, he really would be a perfect candidate. He was intelligent and powerful, with magic that made her own sing in the most incredible way. They worked well as a team and both were ambitious. Gellert would never hold her back, would always treat her like a queen and, she was sure he'd grow up to be very good looking. Jessica would be jealous, she thought wryly.
'Is everything okay?' She asked suddenly. Gellert was unusually quiet, and he sagged back against the bench with uncharacteristically poor posture. He straightened suddenly as if he hadn't realised how much he was slouching.
'Yes, fine.' He said quickly, 'just tired, that's all.'
'What's wrong? Are you not sleeping well?' She asked. When she looked more closely, he really didn't look okay. His skin was paler than it'd been since his desert sojourn and he had dark circles etched under his eyes.
'No, I'm fine.' He insisted, setting his jaw in a way Hermione knew meant he was lying.
'Come on, Gellert. I'm your sister. You can tell me anything.' She coaxed, 'look, I'll even tell you a something about me... I'm not wearing drawers.' She whispered it to him and he recoiled with an inarticulate cry. Hermione collapsed into giggles.
'You're not... you're not serious are you?' Gellert asked faintly, looking terrified.
'Yes, I am. I had Flighty make me different undergarments instead.' Hermione said with a smile. Gellert looked uncertain and Hermione looked at him pointedly.
'It's silly really, I've been having these dreams.' He finally admitted. If he'd used any other tone she would have laughed, but Gellert looked genuinely concerned by these dreams.
'What about?' She asked quietly and the young wizard sighed heavily.
'Its odd, I've never had such a realistic dream before. The castle is burning and I'm running through the corridors; fighting. Berg is with me but he's injured and he's carrying you; you're exhausted...' He trailed off, staring out at the rolling green hills.
'It's not just something you're afraid of? We are at war.' Hermione pointed out, trying to be reasonable. She didn't sleep anymore, now that she was always popping between her modern life and the past but her body didn't seem to need it anymore, perhaps a part of whatever enchantment brought her here. Gellert was already shaking his head, terror darkening his eyes.
'I thought so too, but... the dress you're wearing today, its the same as in my dream.'
Hermione was struck silent, unable to come up with anything else to say. She couldn't say that he was just dreaming because this dress had only been finished that morning, none of them had seen it before the moment Atalanta had delivered it to their rooms that morning. A part f her rebelled against the idea that Gellert could dream the future, but she herself was a visitor from the future. If she could physically travel a century back in time, what was to stop Gellert seeing the future?
Her second thought was they needed to avert whatever tragedy was sure to befall them, probably tonight or perhaps early tomorrow morning. Then Lady Grindelwald's words came to mind - what will happen, has happened, therefore it must happen. Perhaps by trying to avoid the scene, they would make it happen.
She relayed this to him and Gellert looked troubled, his brows were pulled down tight over his eyes.
'So you think we should do nothing?' Gellert checked finally. Hermione paused.
'No, I think we should get ready. We know there's going to be a battle tonight, we can't avert it but we can certainly make sure we're ready.' Hermione elaborated. She picked up a blade of grass and handed it to Gellert. 'My family draw protective runes onto their skin and robes before battle; they saved my life during the duel.'
'Like blue swirls?' Gellert confirmed, his eyes flicking up as if calling his dream to mind. 'I think I remember seeing some.'
'Excellent.' Hermione announced. Pointing her wand at the blade of grass in Gellert's hand. A moment later he was holding a large leaf full of woad paint. Hermione inspected her spell work, determining if the leaf-bowl glitch had affected any other part of her transfiguration. Determining no other problems she shrugged and turned another blade of grass into a paintbrush.
'I don't know many, I'm still learning of course, but I can do light, thats this one, and it can't be covered by clothes. She dipped the brush into the bowl of paint and considered Gellert for a moment. Finally, decided, she pushed his chin up with one hand and pressed the brush to hollow between his collarbones. It left a large blue blob, and she reached for the bowl again, carefully drawing a ring around the blob, then, she drew seven rays which bent backwards about an inch from the circle, then curved back around like a bull's horn. She carefully pronounced the three magic words that powered the symbol, then sat back to take a look.
'Right, now I can do a triquetra, that should keep away dark creatures. Here, this one is easy, you can do it on me too.' Hermione quickly sketched the three interlocking ovals onto his inner wrist, then passed him the brush. He did the same, the brush scribing cool lies against her skin. The paint gleamed darkly, glowing briefly as she incanted the words. Gellert did the same, whispering into his wrist like James Bond into a microphone.
'Does it only work with certain runes?' Gellert asked, eyes gleaming as he looked up at her. She shrugged and Gellert dipped the brush into the paint again. He turned her hand upside down and painted four lines, intersecting at the same point. He circled the intersection, then crossed each end with three lines and a "u" facing outwards. The symbol looked very powerful, to Hermione's inexperienced eye and she held it up to the light, turning it so that light glinted along the wet paint. It looked, she decided, like eight tridents facing outwards from a circle.
'What is it?' She asked curiously.
'The Helm of Awe.' Gellert explained, his brow furrowing. 'It's meant to be a really powerful Norse protection rune.'
'Here, let me do you.' Hermione took the brush off him, considered where to put it, then turned him around and pulled his shirt and robes down his shoulder. He protested a little, then obligingly unbuttoned the layers when she said she wanted to do the rune big.
She dipped the brush into the paint just as her family magic roared out from its spot, deep within her own magic. Her hand rose of it's own accord, lines flowing from beneath the brush. The Helm of Awe appeared in powerful, confident strokes but the paint didn't shine on the surface, instead it sunk into his skin, dulling and looking awfully permanent. She tried to wrest back control, realising her family magic was giving Gellert a tattoo without his permission, but she didn't succeed. Instead, as if to spite her, strange words that she'd never heard before rolled from her tongue, deep, guttural and echoing with power.
'Ægishjalm bar ek of alda sonum, medan ek of menjum lák; einn rammari hugdumk öllum vera, fannk-a ek svá marga mögu.'
Wind howled, tearing the view to shreds of pink mist. The symbol on Gellert's back seared with light and Gellert cried out in pain.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. The family magic vanished back into the depths of her magic and Hermione regained full control of her body. She dropped to her knees as the scene reformed around them, desperately apologising for whatever her awful magic had done. To her relief, Gellert didn't seem to be in pain anymore. In fact, he seemed more concerned for her.
'What happened?' Gellert asked, reaching over his bared shoulder to touch the rune he couldn't see.
'I don't know, my family magic just... took over.' The young witch sobbed, feeling terrible.
'Hey, its alright. It's fine, it only hurt for a bit. You've given me a ward of some sort; see, feel the magic.' Gellert took her fingers and touched them to the warm skin of the mark. It was a ward, an incredibly powerful one at that, although she had no real idea what it did.
'I think the mark is stuck there though.' She protested, feeling like he was being far too forgiving.
'It's a long term protective ward - an incredibly powerful one at that. I can think of worse things to have on my skin. It looks impressive too...' he trailed off, hesitating. 'It is a Helm of Awe right, not some weird girl rune?'
'Yes, it's a helm of awe.' She reassured, laughing unsteadily.
'Perhaps we shouldn't mess with runes we don't understand though.' He suggested, Hermione laughed again, agreeing quickly. 'Your family magic is strong though.' He added, looking at her intensely as if he could actually see the magic coiled within her.
'Yeah, and it has a mind of its own.' She replied irritably.
'Well yes, it asserts itself often. Mother can only use hers if she's really focusing, and it never acts for her like that.'
'She did say it is particularly suited to dark magic and combat, neither of which she really does often. Mine seems to like rituals and runework, which we do use a lot more often.'
'Can you imagine what we'll be able to do together when we're older? If we could combine both family magics?' Gellert suggested excitedly. Hermione doubted it would ever be possible, her family magic seemed to do whatever it liked with maximum power and minimum care for anyone else. She could hardly imagine that ancient other deigning to meld with Gellert's magic like she so often did.
'Can you hear that?' She asked, instead of replying. Gellert cocked his head, listening for a moment. There was a noise, like distant screaming. 'We need to wake up, get out of this dream.'
'Erm, okay, give me your crown.' Hermione pulled out the six pins that held the pretty ensemble in place and passed it to him. Gellert whipped of his own and put them both on the ground. Then, he pulled out his wand and jabbed it at the two crowns with a flourish. Fire caught onto the delicate arrangements with a whuff, black smoke mixing with the pink steam and filling her mouth with a taste more suited to burning plastic than flowers. She coughed, and when she looked up, the smoke was clearing to reveal a courtyard full of sleeping bodies. Others were stirring - Herr and Frau Lintzen were already up, crowns absent. Hermione jumped up, seeing Gellert doing the same from across the courtyard.
'The protections triggered in the castle. Someone or something is attacking the wardstone.' Herr Lintzen informed her as he hobbled past, seizing crowns and setting fire to them to wake those who could fight.
'Blau Berg?' Gellert asked, having appeared behind her. She turned, catching sight of the blue marking through his white shirt; he'd already discarded his robe.
'Yes. You already knew.' Herr Lintzen growled suspiciously, staring at the same marking.
'I had a bad dream, so Hermione decided she'd show me some of her Sect's runes.' Gellert defended. Frau Lintzen appeared over her husband's shoulder, her arm winding around his large massive frame.
'It's not for us to question how the youth spend their Ostara, Dear. If Gellert and Hermione like drawing on each other, we shouldn't judge them.' The tall, willowy witch winked at Hermione leaving her puzzled and feeling like she'd just missed something significant. 'That is the most powerfully imbued protection rune I've seen in quite some time though. I'd love to hear more about it when we have more time, Hermione.'
'We're coming with you.' Gellert insisted stubbornly. Frau Lintzen chuckled.
'We wouldn't dare to stop you, especially with a High Priestess backing you.' She said with some humour, waving them towards the entrance hall. Both children nodded quickly, then turned and pelted headlong across the drawbridge and down the track to the boathouse. They grabbed a handful of floo powder and launched headlong into the flames.
Blau Berg seemed quiet when they arrived. She immediately set off for their rooms; whatever happened to the castle, she couldn't let Mordred's sword fall into the wrong hands.
Her passage went almost entirely unopposed and she swept up the sword, buckling it around her shoulders with practiced ease. Mordred appeared suddenly, concern etched across his features. Just as she was leaving the room again the dark knight jumped in front of her, barring the doorway. He brandished her crown in one hand, complete with its protective enchantments. She took it and he fell in behind her on the way down to the ward room.