Under the critical eye of the potion's master, Gellert carefully chopped his ingredients. They were on day six of their 'potions competition' and the 'prize' of a racing broomstick that none of them particularly cared about hovered at the front of the room.
His three cauldrons bubbled promisingly - Polyjuice, Felix Felicis and Veritaserum to throw anyone off the track of what they were trying to do. So far, Hermione's Polyjuice was a clear winner as Berg had already had to toss his once and Gellert's didn't seem quite the right shade of cream, although it was close enough that he was certain a little extra heating would correct the error. Meanwhile, his Veritaserum was exquisite. It would be a close competition, as if any of them cared.
Hermione signalled to him as she finished adding her next ingredients and he nodded to show that he'd seen it.
He found her in the duelling courtyard, subjecting the closest straw dummy to a series of lethal slashes with Mordred's sword.
'What is it?' He asked, standing at a safe distance incase he surprised her and she lashed out with the lethal weapon.
'I received word from Lady Grindelwald.' She said, pulling out her wand and waving it to cast a privacy charm so powerful that it seemed to hum in the air around them. It made him nervous.
'What?'
'The wizard that's controlling the Pestilances... he's a revolutionary, but he's attacking progressionist families.'
For a moment, Gellert didn't understand why that was a bad thing... surely a little dissent among their enemies was a bad thing. Then he realised exactly what she had said, and the significance of her wording.
'By progressionists, you mean families that are not currently active revolutionary combatants?' He confirmed and Hermione nodded solemnly.
He could see it; to someone who hadn't grown up in the slightly more graphic world of blood sacrifices and demons at Samhain, the Pestilences would be particularly terrifying. Possession by the Foul would strip the soul from the body, and the dark wizard could replace it with his own will - a single mission to surpass all else - pain, cold, hunger... worse than inferius because they were still alive. With a dark wizard in command, perhaps dressed in the more elegant and simple clothing that the traditionalists preferred, corrupted by the ritual magic he had practiced... If that family had been a non-combatant before, they would be signing up to fight as soon as they escaped.
'What do we do?' He whispered, horrified.
'Nothing, according to your mother. There's nothing we can do except prepare for the fighting to start up again.'
'We could kill the wizard?' He suggested and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.
'As if that isn't what both covens and the Baba Yaga have been trying to do all along?' She asked sarcastically. 'If it was that easy, your mother would have already done it.'
Gellert was silent.
'Okay, then we train.' He said decisively, pushing his cloak back to reveal the sword she'd gifted him for Yule. Her eyes lit up.
They didn't actually fight with the swords, instead conjuring replicas that were blunt and wouldn't break skin. A moment later, Gellert was grateful that she's suggested it because the gleaming weapon Hermione had conjured herself slammed into his upper arm and the limb blossomed into a bruise within seconds.
'Oh, you're on.' He promised with mocking darkness, raising his weapon into a heavy overhead slash. Hermione danced backwards, kicking up snow in glittering drifts and slicing at his rib cage. The two blades met with a clang of steel, then rang out again as she tried a quick little flick of her wrist that sent her blade skittering up the side of his. He sent two massive blows crashing into her rib cage, unafraid that she'd ever let one of them land, then jabbed as if the sword was a foil, forcing her to twist awkwardly to one side. He thought he had her, but as she slipped over icy cobbles she smacked wildly with the flat of her blade and send him howling and hopping across the courtyard, sword forgotten as he clutched at his ankle.
Hermione grinned at him, lounging back in the snow where she'd fallen. Her red cloak splayed around her and her sword glittered in the snow beside her. He thought she looked like a war goddess, bathing in the blood of her enemies. Well, if she was the war goddess, he was the god. He arched his hand over his head, launching a spear of conjured fire.
She shrieked and rolled sideways, scrambling up and flashing a wicked grin.
'Oh, you're so on!'
He hadn't given her time to prepare so the powerful environmental spells that she specialised in were utterly useless, and neither of them really wanted to hurt the other. Students dove out of their way as they alternated between snowballs and spells.
Finally, through a wall of flying ice crystals, Hermione launched herself into him and sent them both tumbling backwards into the snow bank, giggling with glee. She landed on top of him and he pushed her off quickly then pounced, digging his fingers into her exposed side and making her squeal in protest.
She blasted him away with a push of wild magic and he was bowled over onto his behind. Still wheezing, Hermione crawled after hum and dug her own fingers into his ribs, tickling mercilessly.
'Stop! Stop!' He wheezed, when it became evident that his magic was unlikely to defend him against her without a prompting that his short-circuiting brain was unable to provide.
'Only if you give me your pudding!' She crowed unrelentingly.
'Yes! Yes!' He surrendered, wriggling away. She let him go.
'If you two are done fooling around?' Berg asked archly from the doorway, their thick winter cloaks slung over his arm. 'I thought we might go for a walk.'
'Boring.' Hermione teased, but she climbed to her feet and dusted the snow off her robe, and resetting her hat over her escaping hair. Gellert took a little longer to climb up, and then he had to traipse around and kick through the snow until he found his sword.
As a trio, they made their way down the snaking staircase that wound down to the fjord, pushing at each other playfully and discussing trivial things like homework. It felt good to forget the outside world for an afternoon; for once, he realised just what he was missing - a normal childhood.
His thoughts returned to the bubbling potions in the potions lab, the abandoned magical city, the blueprints for the new Blau Berg... This moment was brief, but perhaps he could squeeze in more like it.