They were back to that strange, uneasy feeling in the dorms again. It had eased over the year as students found themselves buried beneath mountains of school work but now, with the split of the coven so fresh and public, people had suddenly remembered that the conflict had never actually been resolved and the revolutionaries smelled blood.

The school was full of idiots who didn't understand the war, the coven or the treaty. Hot headed third years who would rise to taunts by the other side and come to blows, fifth years with something to prove and first years who just repeated what their parents had been saying at home. It was all Gellert and Berg could do, as the senior coven children in the school, to break up fights and arguments before they could escalate - fights always led to more fights.

His only allies were, ironically, the seventh year revolutionaries who were as keen to keep the peace as he was. They would wade into the fight in silent agreement, haul their relevant parties away and remind them exactly what was at stake. Occasionally he would share a frustrated look with the other side, and once they even had to work together to break up a duel. It was exhausting.

Of course, when he wasn't occupied with preventing open war, he was trying to study for his upcoming exams. He'd been excused from exams last year but his mother had already made it very clear that he was expected to prove his place as a Grindelwald this year by placing at the top of the class.

'There's still eight of the coven left.' A second year growled loudly from the next aisle in the library. Gellert dropped his head into his arms in resignation. Hermione had created a study timetable for him, but he was pretty sure she had some kind of creature blood. No mortal could stick to the strict regimen and despite staring at the page for over an hour, he still couldn't remember the seven non-metal channels for his ritual exam. Hermione always seemed to just know this kind of stuff, and she could probably even tell him the different properties of each one. He could only remember that salt was best for spirit rituals because it was purifying and defended against evil spirits.

'For now, but it won't be long before the next person realises we don't have to grovel before some fool in a castle just to have a good year.' Gellert recognised that voice; a third year that was always causing trouble. He banged his head into the heavy rituals book in front of him, hoping that someone else would break the two up before he had to.

'The Grindelwald family have offered protection for years, until your rebellion sabotaged them.' The second year spat.

Bone, blood, sulphur, salt... he tried to drain out the noise of what he knew would be an escalating argument. Perhaps he could just sneak out and not have to have anything to do with it?

No, his duty was to the coven and to his people. Letting these petty arguments escalate was dangerous to their precarious peace, he couldn't let the other side have any excuse to break the treaty.

He got up, shoving his books into his bag and stalking out of his aisle, turning into the next a moment later.

It looked like the third year had been working at the table at the end of this aisle and the second year had come in to find a book. The second year had retrieved the book - it was tucked under one arm whilst his wand was clenched in the other. Gellert really, really hoped he had just been summoning the book and he wasn't actually planning to duel in the library.

'Hello.' He called, interrupting the brewing argument. 'May I speak with you for a moment?' He asked the second year, completely ignoring the third year that was glaring dirtily at him.

'Grindelwald?' The second year asked, shocked. 'Certainly.' He glanced quickly back at the third year, then looked Gellert into an empty aisle. Gellert turned back to look at him, taking in the worn, second hand robes and his bursting book bag.

'I know that you have heard this before, and believe me, it is difficult to listen to their slander, but we must not fight with them.' He began, repeating words he's already said four times today. 'They are searching for any reason to break the treaty, and we must not give it to them.'

'So we just let them insult us?' The second year demanded angrily and Gellert sighed heavily.

'We must.'

'I didn't take you for a coward, Grindelwald.' The second year spat and Gellert bristled. He wanted to study, he wanted to pass his exams, he did not want to be nannying people older than him whom had yet to learn to control their tempers.

'I am not.' He gritted. 'It takes more courage to ignore their insults than to rise to them. I fought, bitter, bloody battles where friends and family died. There is no glory, no honour to be earned by fighting, only death on both sides. We do not need to fight to show that we're better, we already know that we are better.'

'So we let them trample over us?' The boy demanded.

'Insults are not justification for violence under the terms of the treaty. Live and let live.' Gellert made sure that his tone did not allow for any more arguments and the second year took the hint. He was unhappy about it, Gellert could read that in his posture and expression, but he would follow the rules.

He didn't linger any longer than necessary, resolving to go to the dorms where he could at least quell most arguments with just a warning look.

Berg was already there, surrounded by mountains of notes and several large books. He had a long smear of ink down his left cheek and a splatter of ink over his white, casual shirt.

'More fights?' Berg asked, taking in Gellert's expression.

'Yes.' He sighed, pulling his books out and spreading them across his bed. 'And I still can't remember the non-metal channels.'

'Blood, Bone, Salt, Sulphur, Soot, Soil and Chalk.' Berg reeled off easily. Gellert huffed in frustration.

'I always forget soot and soil. We never use those.'

'That's because soot is usually used for combat rituals, and nobody uses them anymore and soil is a slow acting regent. We cover them next year.'

Gellert glowered at him.

'Between you and Hermione...' Gellert trailed off threateningly and Berg laughed.

'You'll do better on the practicals.' Berg assured him. 'Especially now that you've got your wand back.'

Gellert glanced down at his wand. It had been exactly where Professor Ezra had seen it would be, nestled among a collection of pearly mermaid scales on top of a large shell. Mermaid scales were a rare, expensive potion ingredient because the ingredient gatherers were not patient enough to wait for them to be shed. He wasn't planning to use them for potions though - he was planning to give them to the Gorlois family to use in the battle dress that he knew they'd eventually make for Hermione. Mer scales were the thinnest, lightest substance that could deflect a killing curse and he would willingly give up a fortune to see her safe.