It had started off as a pleasant dinner with the whole coven and their families present. Lady Grindelwald sat on a throne-like chair at the head of the long polished table. The remaining members of her coven were arrayed to either side of her, partners at their sides and children sitting at the far end, when Gellert took the spot opposite his mother.
They'd had fun through the starter, his peers chatting about their classes at Durmstrang and quizzing Hermione about Hogwarts. It was almost like they were counted as children again rather than the young adults that everyone seemed to treat them as now.
The jovial atmosphere broke as the main course was pulled out. Frau Fleiss' question about the upcoming Beltane ritual drifted through the conversation at Gellert's end of the table.
The deafening silence that met her words stole every warm feeling from the room.
'We will not be hosting a Beltane ritual again.' Herr Freidl sat straight in his seat despite the terrible glare his High Witch focused on him.
'You can't, or you wont?' His mother demanded.
'We wont. I have been observing the British. They never risk the terrible consequences of a failed ritual and seem to suffer very little for lack of the blessing, using new potions and spells to ensure healthy crops and animal fertility.'
'So you are going to abandon the old ways.' Herr Lintzen growled. 'Because they don't serve you now, when they have served our families for centuries.'
'If I must. The old needs to make way for the new, better way. If not, we end up stagnating as the world moves around us.'
'You sound like one of Dumortier's.' One of the others said coldly. He didn't know if it was imagined, or a physical manifestation of the fury in the room but it felt like the temperature was plummeting.
'Perhaps. But I am not going to stop you performing your outdated religion. I will simply no longer endorse it.' Herr Freidl had placed his hands on the table, and his wife gripped his right hand firmly. She too looked firm in her decision and Gellert remembered that she was a new blood from Beauxbatons. He wondered how large a part she'd played in this decision.
'If you will not support the old ways, then there is no place for you in this coven.' His mother decreed. Her face was like a mask of stone, blank and regal as she reached for the staff that Hermione's family had given her. She pushed herself up to her full height, towering over everyone who was still seated.
'I see that you care only for your authority, and not for the friendship I believed we had forged.' Herr Freidl stood too. Despite being similar heights, there was something about his mother that made her seem much larger.
'Our friendship dissolved when you denounced everything we stand for. You can not pick and choose which old customs you keep. If you will not respect the traditions, you may not enjoy the rewards of the coven.' Herr Lintzen stood up as well, his hand reaching for Lady Grindelwald's shoulder. His wife stood beside him, slipping her hand into his other.
'Don't make me do this.' Frau Hassel begged, standing and joining hands in confrontation against her brother. The other three witches joined her quickly, linking hands. Herr Hawdon only hesitated for a moment before standing as well. Anneken's hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him away from the table and he realised that all the other children were already gone, removed by their older peers. With one last glance at the diminished coven, looming over the two Freidls, he allowed himself to be led from the room.
The mood in the corridor was solemn. The two Hawdon twins were crying as kindly Mareike Dünhaupt rubbed a hand up their backs, muttering condolences. Albert Freidl sat alone on the opposite wall, isolated and crying even more heavily than the two Hawdons. The children were all shooting him dark looks.
Hermione's hand wrapped around his in the semi-darkness, pulling him further down the corridor and into a shadowed alcove. Berg and Anneken already sat, mindless of the dusty floor on their robes and looking up at them with wide, expectant eyes.
Hermione sat down, pulling him down with them as magic built behind the distant closed doors - Latin chanting, ancient and terrible.
'I want us to all make a promise.' Hermione said quietly, leaning in so that nobody outside their little circle could hear her words. 'That one day, we will form a coven unlike anything seen before. Our coven will be built on friendship, on family and on a shared ambition.'
'What ambition?' Anneken asked, her voice lowered to match Hermione's.
'To bring back the old ways, to heal the rifts in the wizarding world.' The young witch promised fervently. 'Because change is coming, but it will not be the last change. We will restore the people's faith, remind them of what they have forgotten. We will be a blend of the new and old, of tradition and innovation.'
'Yes.' Berg breathed.
'I will always stand behind you.' Gellert swore, his eyes glowing.
'I have believed in you from the start.' Anneken agreed.
Hermione reached for the middle of the circle holding her palm upwards. Gellert dropped his own hand on top of hers and Berg followed. A moment later, Anneken's delicate hand landed on top of the pile.
'To your coven.' Berg murmured.
There was magic in the air, a different magic than the one in the room behind them. This was not ancient magic guided by ritual words. This was a glowing flower, petals unfurling like flames fuelled by their combined want and will. It wrapped around their joined hands, tingling against his fingertips and lighting their faces with golden light.
'Semper ad meloria.' Hermione promised, Latin dripping from her tongue in a pledge.
'Always towards better things.' They all promised in reply.
Like a vow, the golden magic wound up his wrist but it did not carry the warning burn that threatened death. It was comforting, like the hush of a library, the warm spice of mulled wine and the softness of Hermione's hugs. The light faded softly, but the sensation remained.
They remained, hands clasped, uncertain what kind of promise they'd just wrought for several log minutes. Slowly, the magic faded, allowing the real world to penetrate their little bubble. Tension once more thickened the air and the nervous muttering of the other coven children drifted down the corridor.
The door at the end of the corridor slammed open and sharp footsteps cracked down the hallway. Hermione jumped up, yanking them all up with her. A moment later she tore free of them so that she faced out into the corridor. Gellert found himself stepping forwards to flank her whilst Berg took her left. Anneken, taller than them all, stood behind her.
The footsteps only paused briefly as Herr Freidl paused to haul his son up and pass him off to his wife. The ex-coven member paused when he reached them and Gellert took a moment to take in the unusual pallor of his face and the way his magic seemed to tremble with the aftershocks of the severed coven bonds. Their quartet could take him, as he was now.
Hermione raised her chin and crossed her arms, fixing the older wizard with one of her own glares.
'So like your mother, Miss Grindelwald.' Herr Freidl purred, a tone that Gellert had never heard him use before. He had always been the slightly soft, friendly healer that helped wherever he could. The dark angles of his face were unfamiliar now. 'It is a shame to see such a promising youth fall to the mistakes of their elders.'
'It is a shame you couldn't hold onto your convictions.' Hermione purred in reply, then she blatantly ignored him, adjusting her posture so that the patriarch was clearly excluded from the conversation and she spoke directly to Albert Freidl.
'Your parent's decisions need not define you. Should you wish to return to us, the doors will always be open.'
Albert Freidl nodded uncertainly, eyes still tear streaked. Hermione's smile turned from welcoming and friendly to lethal coldness as her attention shifted to the two adults.
'Well? Do you not have a revolution to pander to?' She demanded sharply. Herr Freidl reared up in outrage, looming over the younger witch. Hermione remained completely still and apparently unintimidated, even as she was forced to shift her chin up even further to maintain eye contact.
'You little...' Herr Freidl spat, his hand raised to strike her.
A hand shot out, wrapping firmly around Herr Freidl's dark wrist. A figure had materialised in the space behind him, the white sigil on his cloak almost glowing in the gloomy corridor. Mordred purred his disapproval, forcing the hand back down with ease that came of spending his lifetime swinging a sword. The dark wizard slipped around him, placing himself just at Hermione's left, not quite in front of her but close enough that he could quickly step in if necessary.
For the first time, he glimpsed what they would become in the future - what Mordred had seen so long ago. Hermione at their head; powerful, untouchable, regal. A queen in all but name. At her back, her court. Not equal, nobody could ever be her equal, but trusted and essential to her position none the less. Mordred - dark, wild and fearsome, her enforcer. Berg - quiet and knowledgable, her researcher. Anneken - beautiful, confident, the society witch. Him, Gellert Grindelwald - powerful, devoted, he was Hermione's supporter, his magic was the perfect counter to hers, dark to light, calm to wild, ice to fire. Together, they were everything. There were gaps in the lineup still, he knew, there would be others and Hermione, their leader, their High Priestess would value them all for their different talents.
Herr Freidl observed them coldly for a moment, his eyes roving over their rigid posture and closed, expressions.
'You shall fall.' He finished coldly before striding away, cloak snapping behind him. His wife and son scurried behind, Albert glancing back once with a kind of desperate loss before he was hauled around the corner by his mother.