A wonderful group of readers have created a facebook group where they can discuss their thoughts on each chapter and their predictions for the next ones.
It's called 'The Official "Dreams" Neverbeyondredemption fanfic fan group' for anyone who wants to join.
Now onto a really really long chapter. Enjoy.
Bey.
The day of the ball was hectic. Although guests would start arriving at six in the evening, Hermione had to arrive at the castle twelve hours beforehand. She was greeted by a positively buoyant Daphne, who had gladly accepted the invitation to assist the famous Lady Krum in planning what would be the biggest ball of the decade. Hermione had never actually seen Daphne in anything other than school robes or the formal cloaks that most Slytherins favoured at school. Her peer had dressed much more casually for the summer; her soft lavender robes made her look even taller and brought out the gentle blush of her cheeks and a wide cream sash kinched at her waist to show off the beginnings of what Hermione was certain would be a figure worthy of a supermodel.
'Hermione!' Daphne greeted, wrapping her into a hug. 'Anneken has your dress; it's stunning.'
'Thank you.' Hermione replied, speaking for more than just the compliment about her dress.
'Oh, don't worry. Mother's over the moon that I've been on the planning committee for a ball this large - even Narcissa Malfoy has never managed anything like it.' Daphne tittered, looping her arm through Hermione's and walking her up to the hall. 'Not to mention your castle is spectacular. I'm privileged to be one of the first to see it.'
It was a less than subtle reminder that Hermione had promised Daphne's family protection should anything happen in the future.
'I'm sure we can have one of the larger homes in the city made available to you should you wish to spend more time here.' Hermione replied, having no intention of reneging on her promise. 'In fact, there are goblin repair teams preparing to restore several next week, perhaps you could select one and have an input on the renovations?'
'Perfect.' Daphne answered with a serpentine smile. Together, they swanned through the massive entrance doors that had been thrown open. Early morning sunlight streamed through the doorway, setting the little flecks of mika in the stone floor ablaze with crimson fire like stars gone supernova. The room was a hive of activity - a whole squadron of skeletons worked to carefully lower the massive crested banners to the floor, rolling them up and taking them outside for cleaning whilst others arranged bundles of purple heather, bright green hazel leaves and twinkling white flowers into massive arrangements, set into silver braziers along the wall as if they were vases.
Meanwhile, an army of elves in Anneken's house colours streamed through the portal carrying piles of dismantled spindly white chairs and tables, ready to be erected against the walls when the skeletons were done with the banners. Flighty marched through the room, wielding her cane and a pair of secateurs like weapons as she judged every bouquet and checked the candles in the colossal chandelier.
'Too much purples, Dead-Daediea. Is is wanting balance for Mistress Hermione's first ball.' Flighty scolded one of the skeletons, who obediently started again on her floral arrangement. The 'Mistress Hermione has arrived, Flighty is seeing.'
Hermione waved to ever being in earshot that looked up at her, then quickly went back to work under Flighty's quelling gaze.
'It looks like everything here is going well.' Hermione praised and the young elf beamed.
'Flighty is a good elf and is having everything under control.' Flighty declared. 'But Mistress Hermione is needed in the kitchens to be tasting the menus and Lady Anneken is needing Missy Daphne's help with the seating plan.'
The two witches split up, Daphne heading through the ballroom doors and up to the dais where Anneken supervised the preparation of the dais for the musicians whilst Hermione headed left and down the stairs to the kitchens. Like the two massive rooms upstairs, this one was also a hive of activity. She was accosted by Flighty's daughter with a silver platter, a dazzling array of delicate canapés covering the silver surface. She was made to taste every one and although she found them all exquisite, the house manager seemed to find something in her expression or manner that had almost half of the little delicacies discarded. Some were too crumbly, others took her too long to eat and others were to loud as she ate them - they were all considerations that she'd never previously paid attention to.
Feeling like the elves had matters well in hand in the kitchens, Hermione made her way up to the throne room again, only to be intercepted on the stairs by a breathless Theo.
'Father says that you're to go to Nurmengard and change the wards.' Her classmate panted, clearly having run all the way from the floo.
'What?' She demanded, checking her watch. It was barely seven in the morning and although she didn't have a specific job, she needed to be around incase anything cropped up that needed her attention.
'Dumbledore said he was available today; father thinks he's hoping that you won't be able to make it and he'll be able to put it off until next summer.' Theo explained as she stalked back up the stairs, through the dining room and into the throne room.
'I've got to go now then.' Hermione decided, fretting as she looked over herself in her reflection in one of the silver plates. She'd worn a very casual set of robes, more than a year old and her braided hair was piled up in a messy bun. She hadn't even bothered to shower, knowing that her preparations for the ball would involve at least half an hour in the bath whilst the elves worked through a beauty regime. 'No... I've got to change... Flighty!'
'Flighty is answering!' The elf announced, popping in with a crack loud enough to make her ears ring.
'Flighty. I need better clothes... is there anything here?' Hermione demanded.
'Flighty is fetching something.' The elf disappeared with a crack, then reappeared barely a second later with a white summer robe that Hermione distinctively recognised from Germany. It was plain enough that it could pass muster in modern fashion and had clearly been under some kind of preservation charm because it looked as new as the day it was made. The elf snapped her fingers, changing one for the other and pinning one of the white flowers form the bouquets into her bun. In a matter of seconds, she looked ready to go out.
'You are wonderful, Flighty.' The young witch praised, checking her reflection before hurrying over to the floo. Lord Nott appeared a moment before she reached it, clearly having gone home to change his robes as well. He led the way to Hogwarts before the green flames had even really cooled, Hermione jumping in behind him.
Dumbledore was still eating his breakfast, the delicious scent of bacon and eggs muddling with the heavy musk of coffee. He looked surprised when they stepped through, his greeting was polite even though his didn't stand or even put aside his meal.
'Your owl conveyed urgency.' Lord Nott informed the headmaster, scowling down at the tray of food. 'I'm sure you're aware but we are very busy today.'
'Certainly, certainly.' Dumbledore agreed, finally standing up and picking up his tall, pointed hat and seating it on his unbrushed hair. Hermione was uncertain whether the robes he was wearing were actually robes, or whether it was just a dressing gown. The shapeless, pastel blue cloth was printed with miniature red phoenixes and the under robe looked an awful lot like a ladies nightdress. She bit her lip, knowing that commenting would get her nowhere as the headmaster abandoned his breakfast and picked up a large golden medallion on a purple ribbon. He offered it to Hermione and she placed a finger on it, recognising the twisting magical signature of a portkey from Berg's lessons the year before. The headmaster spoke a password that sounded distinctly French and the world disappeared in a swirl of silver instruments.
They landed in a massive glass atrium suspended over a cylindrical glass cavern, like a skyscraper that plunged down instead of going up. Golden lanterns drifted through the gloomy void like fireflies, pausing at different floors to let people climb out. Through every pane of glass on every floor was a glimpse of various country's bureaucracy. The third floor down was decked out in red, white and blue with flag poles at every desk whilst the sixth floor had cherry blossoms on every otherwise bland desk.
The headmaster rang a little bell near the window and one of the lanterns shifted course, sliding up alongside the glass wall. Dumbledore then stepped straight through the glass pane, over the small but dizzying gap and into the lantern like he'd just climbed onto a train. Hastily, Hermione followed.
Passing through the glass was like stepping through a thin film of water; cool and damp, except when she emerged into the lanterns she was cool and dry but every enchantment had been washed from her. Fortunately the robes she wore were genuine, but Lord Nott's briefcase was suddenly bulging. The elderly patriarch scowled at the Supreme Mugwump, who was busy watching Hermione closely.
'Is there a problem?' She demanded, taking a seat on one of the wrought iron chairs that encircled the glowing orb in the middle. It wasn't as bright as she'd anticipated, but she still found it more comfortable to be looking away from the light.
'Perhaps.' Replied the Supreme Mugwump.
'Oh?' Lord Nott came up beside her in a show of support. Hermione may just be a student, but she had powerful friends and the headmaster had no right to try to intimidate her.
The lantern drifted deeper and deeper.
'You see, Gellert often spoke about a girl called Hermione.'
'That doesn't surprise me.' Hermione drawled.
'I mean that he often spoke of a Hermione that grew up with him, almost a hundred years ago.'
Hermione froze.
'I thought perhaps that he had just seen you in his visions, but then I remembered something very interesting. Grindelwald did a thorough job erasing every mention of your existence, but his purge was not absolute. He shared a copy of a very rare book with me when we were young and foolish, and I couldn't help but take it back when I defeated him.'
Tense, heart pounding in her chest, Hermione watched as Dumbledore pulled a very familiar book from the pocket of his robes. It wasn't exactly as Hermione remembered it; the gold leaf inlaid into the embossed runic title had almost worn away and the leather binding was damaged by rough treatment and stained, but she'd spent enough time pouring over the book that it was still immediately recognisable.
Dumbledore let the cover fall open and Hermione's full name and title glared up at her incriminatingly, written in faded ink with the scratchiness that had characterised her early lessons with a quill when she was first visiting Germany. Gellert's own name was drawn below it, his script as familiar to her as her own.
'My most recent theory was that you were using some kind of disguise to start a new life for yourself; perhaps an anti aging potion, or some kind of elixir as you were clearly close to Nicholas Flamel.' Dumbledore continued. 'But that glass contains some the most powerful enchantment stripping wards in the world, and you passed through with no effect. So, Miss Granger, how are you here?'
Hermione blinked down at the book in front of her, unable to stop herself flipping over the page.
'It was accidental magic.' She found herself saying. 'His mother took me in as a ward when I was nine and we grew up together. We did everything together; we fought against Livius Lucan and Dumortier, the Russian Revolution... Then something happened and now I'm here and my brother is in prison and a century old.'
Lord Nott was looking at her like she'd grown a second head, but surprisingly Dumbledore's eyes had softened.
'And you don't know what happened?' The headmaster asked.
'No.' Hermione confirmed, gaining confidence in her new deception. 'It's awful; he was wonderful to me. He even managed to talk me into courting him, and suddenly he's a villain locked in a tower and I'm young enough to be his granddaughter.'
It was easy to become wistful, to let her eyes drift down and her lips turn with the thought of what Gellert had become. She'd agreed to the courting contract because it broke her heart to keep rejecting him and because he honestly loved her, in the same way that she loved him and he would be broken when she disappeared either way, so what did it matter if they enjoyed the time they could?
She still loved him; the older version of her brother that was imprisoned in his own fortress. He was different, obviously. He'd always had a justifiable arrogance to him - who wouldn't when they were wealthier than half the world's governments, powerful enough to level cities and good looking to match? But he'd turned it outwards, changing it to a dark and threatening promise of wielding that power. Yet half a century of imprisonment hadn't dulled his quick mind and he'd developed quite the silver tongue, talking her out of trouble as quickly as she'd often talked them into it. His magic had changed too - she'd known, conceptually, that they were both children in the 1800's, and as such their magic would continue to develop over time but feeling Gellert's mature magic was something entirely different. She'd felt the chill of it even before he'd entered the courtroom, like stepping out into a Baltic winter night. He was powerful enough to rival Dumbledore, his darkness battling back the insidious, crawling golden light of the chief warlock's magic just by being close to him.
'I too, remember a different Gellert Grindelwald.' Dumbledore admitted with a heavy sigh, leaning back against the glass outer wall of the lantern. 'Charming, intelligent and quick witted, but manipulative and with a fascination for the dark arts. I should have seen earlier what he would become.'
The lantern floated lower, drifting past an office with a giant green and gold inflatable kangaroo guarding the doorway. They sat in silence as the lantern finally came to rest in a massive amphitheater. They were not quite at the bottom, which was a single colossal silver dish that gave off a pearlescent mist that smelled slightly lemony.
They stepped out of the lantern and onto a dais which protruded conspicuously from the blanket of regular seats to hold a lectern, three large and comfortable looking chairs and a scribe's desk. Right near the back, almost lost in the gloom of a deep archway, was a set of double doors which Dumbledore led them through.
They emerged into a very well appointed office. A massive desk took up most of the room, behind which hung a large purple banner. On a small table behind the desk was a pile of books and a gramophone, and one wall was full of bookshelves groaning beneath texts on global law and what looked like the bound minutes of every ICW meeting in history.
Dumbledore took a seat behind the desk and two seat faded into being across from him. Hermione took a seat and Lord Nott copied her stiffly.
'So your expertise in these wards...' Dumbledore pulled a thick file from his desk and opened it up to reveal sheets upon sheets of rubbings.
'I designed them.' Hermione confirmed proudly. 'Of course, he's modified some sections - this nasty curse here, for example, I wouldn't have included. I prefer my wards to keep prisoners.' She pointed to a section of runes and both wizards peered over at it.
'Remarkable.' Dumbledore mused.
Hermione leaned back, satisfied that neither wizard actually understood the runes involved in the wards at all. The section that she'd pointed to was not even close to a curse - it actually controlled the height of the muggle repelling charm. She had no intention of allowing Gellert to remain in prison for the rest of his life; sitting in a forgotten cell didn't make the world a better place, but he was powerful enough to help her stop Voldemort in his tracks if he found another way to come back to life. That would go much further towards atonement than imprisonment.
'There is a special floo that will take us to the warden's cottage, and then there's a bit of a walk up the hill to the fortress.' Dumbledore explained, repacking the pages and pulling out another bunch of parchment which he made them both sign and stamp with their seals, then they were finally heading back out into the colosseum.
The headmaster had them both stand on a specific stone, which then sank into the stone outcropping with a sound like gravel under waves. They didn't go far down, emerging after barely a minute into a surprisingly modern prison area. There were only three cells, painted white with chipped black bars, each fitted with an open shower cubicle and toilet. A black desk and uncomfortable looking metal chair took up the rest of the room, and the far wall was broken by a plain, boxy fireplace.
Like the floo that had taken them from the ministry to Azkaban, this one burned with purple flames and the first fireplace they saw was the one that they tumbled out of.
The warden was waiting for them, his face now familiar to Hermione despite still not knowing his name, in what looked like an abandoned old house. The windows were boarded up and the wallpaper was peeling, the roof sagged alarmingly at the far end.
The small party followed him outside, through a door that was oddly silent and solid when compared to the ramshackle building.
Hermione gasped.
They were in an ancient, abandoned village. She'd never actually set foot on the road, but she recognised the way it swerved around the inn from hours spent looking out of the windows at it. She turned around, peering around the corner of the building and up at the imposing hills.
Blau Berg had once looked like a fairytale castle; glittering white spires and towers with deep blue slate rooves that had speared up out of the rich forest. The forest had been levelled, deep scars in the earth that told of the mighty battles that had taken place in the mountains and the barren landscape left the geography disorientatingly bare for inspection. The quidditch pitch was gone and the river that had once wound down the mountain was a dry bed in the summer heat, without the trees to shield it from the sun.
Nurmengard speared out of the hills that had once sheltered Blau Berg like a dark monolith; a cancer cropping out from jagged cliffs. It was set much further back and off to the left, perhaps directly opposite the family's sanctuary. Distantly, almost lost to the blackened peaks, she could see the green of the treeline starting up again.
'Oh, Gellert.' Hermione breathed, undecided over whether she wanted to pity him or hate him for the devastation wrought on what had once been a slice of paradise. The bond between them pulsed as it often did when her magic flared in moments of intense emotion. She wasn't sure whether he was trying to comfort her or check that she was okay.
'... the largest set of muggle repelling wards ever recorded. The dragon reserve in Romania is bigger now, of course, but at the time it was remarkable.' The warden was informing Lord Nott behind her.
'It used to be a reserve for magical creatures.' Hermione mourned.
'It still is.' The warden said, surprised. 'There's a feral roc in there somewhere. I think they tried to move it back when Grindelwald was first imprisoned but they gave up after it ate a handler and just left it here.'
'Star isn't feral.' Hermione huffed. Rocs were native to the deserts and incredibly rare, so she was almost certain that the bird they were talking about was the same one that she knew. 'He was abused and Gellert rescued him. Of course he'd hate handlers.'
She sent out a pulse of magic, hoping that Star still recognised her and would come to investigate. She didn't have time to walk all the way up to the distant fortress, modify the wards and still walk back in time for the ball. Her bond with the bird was obviously not as close at Gellert and Berg's, but he knew her and she'd been kind to him for the period that she knew him.
Her summons was answered by a distant golden speck lifting off from the closest green peak.
The bird had aged; his feathers had dulled from rich golden to a sandy tan and his eyes were white and cloudy with blindness. His feathers were starting to become ragged as well, not quite growing as quickly as the brittle quills were breaking. He landed heavily, almost knocking over several ramshackle buildings. The adults backed away hastily, but Hermione remained put in the middle of the dusty road.
Star screeched, foul breath blasting at her robes as he lowered his massive head to peer at her with a milky eye.
'Good morning, Star.' Hermione breathed in german, reaching up to rub his eyebrow ridge. The bird relaxed into her touch quickly, the nostrils slits flaring as he took in her scent. 'I'm here to visit Gellert, would you mind taking me to the tower?'
The bird cocked its head, then squarked and flopped awkwardly onto it's belly and splayed his wings so that she could use the thick flight quills like a staircase.
'Thank you, Star.' Hermione climbed up carefully, wary of damaging the brittle feathers any more than they already were. She beckoned to the Lord Nott who heaved a sigh and followed her up onto the wide back of the beast.
'You, priestess, are the second coming of Newt Scamander...' Then he hesitated, 'or perhaps the first. A Basilisk, a Roc, a Longma and a Grim?'
'The Basilisk is an ally, not a belonging. Star is a wild creature that Gellert befriended, not me and it was Lady Grindelwald who bought me a Longma. Technically, the Grim is the only creature that I've acquired.' Hermione corrected with a smile, offering a hand to help the warden up and then allowing him to do the same for Dumbledore. Oddly, the headmaster was beaming.
'Remarkable.' The elderly light wizard said as he hiked his robes up over his knees and settled astride the bird. Intelligent enough to know that they were ready, Star lumbered up to his feet and took off, Hermione clenched her eyes shut as the ground disappeared out from beneath them. She loved flying on Katana; trusted him with her life and knew that he would never let her fall but Star was a different beast entirely; a predator with no connection to her other than a tenuous bond via Gellert. If she fell, she doubted Star would put in half as much effort to catch her as Katana would.
She didn't open her eyes again until she felt the bird alight at the base of the tower and she scrambled off quickly, glad to be back on solid ground. Despite her discomfort, she did make a deliberate effort to thank the roc for the lift, and offered him one of the caves on her island if he felt like a change of scenery. She doubted the bird would take her up on the offer, but she felt it was polite considering her brother had decimated the park the bird lived in.
Once Star had taken off, Hermione turned to face Nurmengard prison. It was massive; taller than Blau Berg had been, although not quite as tall as Avalon. It loomed up into the sky, stone so dark that even the bright summer sunlight seemed unable to light the shadowy crevasse that split it's front face. There was, as Gellert had once joked when they were planning the new Blau Berg, only one door and she spotted almost every one of the nasty traps that Mordred had suggested they include in the construction.
The castle bore the distinctive smell of disuse, despite the well trodden staircase. Almost all of the doors that led off the tightly winding staircase were boarded shut and disconcerting cobwebs hung from every light fitting. The warden lit the way up with his wand, copied by the other of age wizards but Hermione stumbled over no less than seven trick steps in the gloom.
'Gellert is hopeless.' She huffed as she climbed. 'It would be unbelievably easy to take down this castle. Being a Dark Wizard made him arrogant.'
'Easy, you say?' The warden demanded, clearly used to the climb. Hermione still had to get back to her previous level of fitness after her long they imprisonment.
'Muggle artillery and un-enchanted objects aren't stopped by wards. You'd literally only need to hit one spot and the whole thing would come crashing down. If he'd made a pyramid, he wouldn't have had that problem. There's also only one way out - which means once the attackers have breached the wards, you're stuck fighting to the death... actually, not even fighting. If I was through the wards, I'd just put a couple of good blasting curses at the base and the whole thing would topple over.'
The wardstone was on the twelfth floor. It had once been protected by more wards so it appeared that Gellert did learn, but those were not wards that she'd designed and they had been stripped away by ward breakers a long time ago.
'I'll need Gellert.' She informed the wizards. 'There's blood protections to prevent alterations and I am not a Grindelwald by blood.'
'Absolutely not.' The warden huffed.
'I'm sure, Warden Flinch, that Grindelwald will not attempt anything with me here. He is, after all, unarmed.' Dumbledore countered. The Warden seemed unhappy, but brandished his wand. A silver shape shot out of the end, disappearing off into the ceiling.
Silence fell as Hermione studied the stone for any alterations that Gellert might have made since she had finished the plans. He hadn't, which was unsurprising. Her brother had never shown an aptitude for runes and ritual creation, despite his considerable intelligence whilst Hermione had taken to them like a duck to water. As evidenced by the world's failed efforts to even understand the Nurmengard wardstone, she was clearly very good.
The clanking of shackles interrupted her appreciation of her own work and every eye turned as Gellert was shoved into the room by a pair of aurors. He looked very different in his worn prison robes than he had in dress robes in court. The washed out, striped fabric combined with his sun-deprived skin and white hair to give him an almost ghostly appearance which made his one remaining brown eye stick out with startling intensity. He spat a curse at one of the aurors as they tugged on the chains to bring him to his knees, then his eyes alighted on Hermione and his whole expression lit up.
'Hermione!' He breathed, ignoring everyone else in the room entirely.
'You have grown a foul mouth.' She informed him, glancing at the auror he'd insulted. Judging by the soldier's mystified expression, he had no idea what Gellert had just insinuated his mother did with her owl.
'Beastie would wash it with cauldron cleaner.' He answered, grinning.
'English, please.' The warden demanded sharply. Gellert scowled at him but complied, switching to Hermione's native tongue. He'd barely spoken the language when they'd been younger but now he was fluent, except for the odd accent which she couldn't place.
'We're not here for a social call, Gellert.' Hermione informed him.
'I guessed.' The dark wizard drawled.
'Lord Nott, may I please have the athame?' She asked and the patriarch unrolled his ritual kit, pulling out the plain knife from within. 'and you'll need to let him come here. I need to draw the runes onto the stone and I can't use a bowl.' Hermione continued, pointing to the spot next to her. The aurors hauled her brother to his feet and marched him over to her before forcing him down in the exact spot that she'd indicated. Dumbledore and Warden Flinch watched her like hawks as she picked up Gellert's palm.
The skin was pale with scars which told a tale of dark blood magic, performed time and time again. She wrinkled her nose.
'Will these interfere with the warding?' She asked. Many of the scars still carried echoes of the twisted magic that they had supplied blood for.
'No.' Gellert said with a wince, perhaps having felt the exploratory brush of her magic and knowing what she'd be able to read from it. Without further warning, she pressed the lethally sharp blade into his skin. Her brother cupped his hand immediately, letting the crimson liquid pool in his palm. She dipped her finger in, suppressing her instinctual shudder at the heat of the life-giving liquid.
The runes she sketched onto the stone had absolutely no bearing on the wards and she was certain that Gellert was aware of that. He followed her every move. Sowulo, Laguz, Ansuz, Wunjo, Ehwaz...
Rune by rune, Hermione informed him that she was slaving the Nurmengard wards to Gorlois. The Mugwump's ring would still have control over the wards for minor things - letters and such, but Hermione would be able to bring the whole enchantment crashing down from her family's central wardstone if she so desired. Gellert's poker face was very good but Hermione knew all of his tells - he was very pleased.
'Accio.' He informed her. She glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged, chains clanking noisily. 'It was your first spell.'
'You are such a sentimental.' She informed him.
'But you never would have guessed it.' Gellert said smugly and Hermione shrugged in acknowledgement.
'No, I would have gone for Kelpie first.'
'Oh, do be reasonable. I wasn't going to use my pet's name. I did consider yours though.' Gellert scoffed.
'Which one?' Hermione asked, rubbing off her earlier runes with Gellert's already grubby sleeve. Her robes were far too nice to spoil with blood.
'Cavalla,' he answered, flexing his hand to break open the clotting cut.
'Oh, I like it.' She breathed. 'Female version of King Arthur's white hound.'
She quickly wrote out the password he'd given her across the surface and charged it with a quick burst of wandless magic. The stone glowed golden, bright enough that she had to shield her eyes and the smell of hot wax permeated the room. After a long breath, the light faded and Hermione blinked to clear the after image from her sight.
The stone had changed, enchantments and transfigurations stripping away to reveal that it was actually a large block of wax.
'Very nice. Your work?' She asked, running her fingers over the soft surface. Gellert preened at her compliment. 'You'll have to put it back when I'm done. I'm hopeless at that kind of magic.'
Over by the wall, the warden huffed irritably.
It was much easier to work with wax than stone. She could just melt more wax from the candle in the ritual kit to erase the runes that needed changing, rather than worrying about negating them with other runes. Carving in the new ones was easily done with the tip of the athame, adding in the slave link, ready to be activated as soon as it was mirrored as well as the modification to include the new seal as a secondary control without removing the old one and risking the wards collapsing.
'I need the new seal.' Hermione ordered, holding her hand out. Dumbledore handed her the heavy ring of the Supreme Mugwump reluctantly and she used a wandless warming charm to carefully soften the wax and pressed the face of the ring into it. Once the wax had cooled, she passed the ring back and Dumbledore slid it onto his finger quickly.
'Gellert, can you charge it please?' She asked.
'Not without a wand.' He grumbled and Hermione looked at him with wide eyes, then passed her own to him in a serpentine move. The aurors shouted in dismay, Dumbledore took a step forwards, the warden whipped his own wand out.
Gellert cast a shield. It roared up between them with the silvery power of a ward that must have been lying dormant. A wild grin twisted his lips.
'You, my dear, are wonderful.' He crowed, wrapping her up into as much of a hug as the manacles on his wrists would allow. A wave of his wand later and they clattered to the ground. The warden banged against Gellert's shield with his fists but the sound was so muffled that it was almost inaudible.
'I'm not breaking you out.' Hermione reminded him.
'I know, I know... I deserve to be in prison.' He sobered, pulling away a little. The ward flashed as one of the aurors sent a jinx at it.
'I'll need your wand soon, but not yet. You have a long way to go to make up for the harm you have caused.'
'I don't think I ever can... not if I live a thousand lifetimes.' Her brother mused.
'Trying is better than complaining about it.' Hermione said briskly. Dumbledore was running his hands over the wards and she had no idea how long they would last if the mighty leader of the light turned his wand on them. 'Now get a move on and do this before they break down the ward and arrest me for arming you.'
Obediently, Gellert turned to face the lump of wax on the floor.
Hermione had yet to see him perform sorcery - he was barely scraping the surface of the craft in the nineteenth century, but it was clear that in the twentieth he was a master. He held her wand like a conductor's baton and it floated through the air. Billowing strands of magic like sapphire ribbons wound from the end, streaming into the runes that she'd just cut and lighting them up in the same shade. He chanted, magic dancing from his tongue in a musical stream.
The aurors had paused outside the ward and the warden conversed urgently with Dumbledore. Hermione glanced back at Gellert nervously, itching for him to be finished as Lord Nott said something to the headmaster, hopefully intervening on her behalf.
'Done.' Gellert announced, tapping the block of wax with the wand tip. The newly added runes sparked brightly, then faded.
'Make it so they can't alter it. Quickly.' Hermione ordered. 'Use a new password.'
'Polyjuice.' Gellert informed her, lifting the wand again. The spells that ran off his tongue were unfamiliar; light shimmered around the wardstone, changing it an altering it into dark, solid stone and fixing the markings on it under impenetrable protections. She could feel the pulsing magic as he added to it, then tied it off with a final incantation like a bow on a present.
'Done?' Hermione asked urgently.
'Done.' Gellert confirmed, passing her wand back. The handle was sticky with his blood. 'A simple finite will drop the wards.'
Hermione raised an eyebrow and flicked her wand at the shining barrier. It collapsed as quickly as it had been erected and the aurors leapt forwards with wands drawn... Gellert calmly snapped the manacles back onto his wrists, then bend down to do the same of his ankles.
'...should have you arrested!' The warden blustered, brandishing his own wand threateningly.
'But I didn't do anything wrong?' Hermione asked, blinking up at him with false innocence. 'I've finished altering the wards, and Gellert had to charge the alterations - he is the ward builder.'
The warden spluttered.
'Precisely, Headmaster, as I was telling you.' Lord Nott added, he arms folded across his chest.
'Grindelwald could have escaped!' The Warden Flinch spat. He was paler than snow and Hermione suspected he had been more afraid that the dark wizard might have escaped on his watch than angry with her.
'Of course he wouldn't have. He wouldn't put my education at risk.' Hermione smiled up at the warden. 'If he escaped with my wand, I certainly wouldn't be allowed to take my OWLs.'
'Someone in the family has to get NEWTs.' Gellert drawled from behind her. His voice was tight with barely suppressed pain and she had to fight not to look back and see what the aurors were doing to him.
Flinch took a furious breath, paused, took another, then heaved a sigh and wiped his hand across his forehead.
'You might trust this villain, Miss Gorlois, but he is a prisoner. It took fifty years to capture him, we mustn't risk his escape.'
'I wouldn't!' Hermione gasped. Dumbledore was looking at her suspiciously, then his gaze shifted to Gellert and he crossed the room so that they stood chin to chin.
'I wonder... was it you who taught her, or her that taught you?' The headmaster asked softly.
'Taught what? I taught her transfiguration, horse riding and dancing. She taught me runes and how to swing a sword.'
Dumbledore hummed as if Gellert's answer had been very illuminating and pushed his glasses up his nose, peering down at the wardstone. Hermione was confident that he wouldn't know what she'd done, but her breath caught all the same.
'Despite the irregularity, it appears that it has been done.' Dumbledore mused, then straightened. Hermione almost relaxed, then remembered at the last moment and froze again, her shoulders still taught. It would be obvious that she'd done something if she sagged as soon as Dumbledore finished inspecting her work. 'Return Mr Grindelwald to his cell, please. Miss Granger has a ball to attend, I believe.'
'Gorlois. She's a Gorlois.' Gellert hissed. Hermione allowed Lord Nott to steer her from the room, twisting around to wave goodbye to her wardbrother. He flexed their bond in reply. Only once she was in the darkness of the stairwell did she finally relax.
They descended in silence.
'No more surprises.' The warden cautioned as they emerged from the doorway and out into the sunlight. It was sweltering already - the surrounding dark rock acted like an oven and the lack of greenery did nothing to dispel the heat. The air wavered over the road and Hermione sighed heavily, already dreading the walk down to the distant village. It had been an hour's ride from the castle to the village when the path had wound down the hill. Now, the path ran straight but they were much further back along the valley. It would be a long, hot walk and she couldn't even cast a cooling charm.
Lord Nott tapped her on the head with his wand, cool air washing over her like a bucket of ice emptied over her head.
'Thank you.' She smiled up at him. The answering smile was more than a little tight and she sighed internally. She would have a lot of explaining to do once they were back in Avalon.
But Lord Nott was a pureblood, brought up with immaculate manners. Despite any annoyance he may have felt, he offered her his arm and they walked off down the steep slope.
Despite Lord Nott frequently renewing the cooling charms, she was feeling distinctly sweaty and bedraggled by the time they reached the shack with the floo. If her hair hadn't been charmed into tight box braids, she was certain it would be a frizzy mess - even as it was the little plaits were escaping from the bun on her head.
'Thank you for your assistance, Warden Flinch.' Hermione beamed, just before stepping through the floo.
'None of my predecessors had to deal with this.' He replied grumpily. 'Nurmengard's Chief Warden hasn't been considered a complex job since the sixties; I was going to retire in two years.'
'It's still not a complex job.' Hermione said brightly. 'Gellert will do anything I ask him to.'
'That is exactly what concerns me.' The warden muttered, pushing her into the fireplace.
'If I write, will you deliver the letters?'
'No!'
'Oh, but he'd be much more polite if he knew I was doing well at school.'
Warden Flinch scowled at her.
'He sees all sorts of things - lots of them never come true but he does have a habit of jumping to the worst conclusion, especially when I've nearly died both years of school so far. I'm sure he won't try anything if he knows that I'll be sending monthly updates?'
'Fine. But I'll be reading them. No funny business.'
She beamed, chucking down her handful of powder and roaring through the purple floo to the headquarters of the ICW. Dumbledore was scowling at her; it appeared that whatever favour she'd earned by being a victim of a magical tragedy had been lost when she'd passed her wand to Grindelwald.
They stood back on the stone circle, grinding upwards into the amphitheater and climbed into an awaiting lantern.
'I believe you are required to hand over the Grindelwald ring, Headmaster.' Lord Nott commented as Dumbeldore took a seat.
'Quite.' Dumbledore replied, making no move to do so. 'I shall do so when we reach my office.'
'It's on your hand.' Hermione pointed out. Dumbledore looked down at his knobbly fingers as if surprised, slipping two rings off easily. She was fairly convinced that the second one had been there for the express purpose of holding the Grindelwald ring on his finger. Clearly Gellert's fingers had been thicker when he was in his prime.
'So it is.'
He passed it to her and a wash of victory flickered through her magic. The ring was a familiar weight in her hand and the family magic tingled like electricity against her skin.
'Good.' She smiled. 'Of course, I'll have to give it to Anneken because she's Locum Matriarch. Then she can give me the heir's ring.' She pulled off the golden chain that had been used to carry her seal before she reached eleven and strung the head's ring onto it.
'Such antiquated traditions.' Dumbledore sighed. 'I don't understand why you cling to them.'
'You wouldn't.' Lord Nott snapped. 'You have no family of note, so you have never experienced them.'
The lantern drew to a halt at the atrium at precisely the right moment before the two elderly wizards could actually argue. Hermione fled. She'd won this round against the leader of the light and she wanted to enjoy her victory before starting another. Her expectantly raised arm forced Lord Nott to accompany her, else he risk shirking his responsibility as her male escort.
Dumbledore held out his portkey again and they gripped it tightly, whirling away to his office in Hogwarts.
'We will see you at the ball tonight?' Hermione checked, in lieu of a farewell. She knew that she would; there was no chance that the headmaster would be missing the opportunity to pry into her legendary home.
'Certainly.' He seemed to have regained some of his friendly old man mask upon the return to his office.
'Excellent. We will see you then. I'm sure you understand that we have a lot to be getting along with.'
She stepped through the floo, reappearing in Avalon in a roar of fire.
She whooped victoriously, attracting the attention of the boys who were helping to enchant the braziers that the skeletons had dragged into position for people to gather around in the courtyard.
'Did you do it?' Theo demanded, his eyes going wide as he saw the heavy ring on her necklace.
'She gave a wand to Gellert Grindelwald in front of the Supreme Mugwump, two aurors and the Chief Warden.' Lord Nott grumbled.
Theo gaped.
'I also slaved Nurmengard's wards to the Gorlois family wardstone.' Hermione revealed. Thoros Nott's expression changed to match his son's.
'You what?' Anneken demanded, emerging from within the castle.
'None of them understood the wards at all. I change the key to the Supreme Mugwump's seal, but I also slaved them to the wardstone at The Barrows. Dumbledore didn't even realise. Of course, I couldn't do that big a change without having to recharge them, and Gellert needed a wand to do it.' Hermione explained, grinning proudly.
'You're unbelievable. I thought your endgame was getting the rings, but then you use getting the rings to free Sirius Black and use freeing Sirius Black to have Grindelwald brought to you from prison, then you use the rings as an excuse to steal the prison.' Lord Nott trailed off.
'I didn't steal it. I reclaimed it. Technically, the ICW stole it from the Grindelwald family first.' Hermione giggled.
'And what about what you told Dumbledore?' The Slytherin patriarch demanded, his eyes narrowing as the mood changed. Hermione faltered.
'Not quite correct. I was born thirteen years ago to Richard and Jean Granger. But I travelled back in time using some kind of accidental magic when I was nine. I still travel back every night, then wake up again every morning back here.' Hermione explained.
'And you haven't tried to stop him? A single Avada for the greater good?' Lord Nott demanded.
'What if she did?' Anneken challenged. 'Grindelwald inspired Dumbeldore, forced him to become a great wizard. What if Grindelwald had never risen and Dumbledore became an obscure researcher, perhaps like Berg Tunninger? Who would have stood against Voldemort then?'
'Or someone worse might have risen instead?' Theo suggested contemplatively. 'Or maybe he would have survived, embittered, and not even Dumbledore would have been able to stop him?'
'Lady Grindelwald says that I couldn't change anything if I tried - she says that what had happened must happen and therefore will happen.' Hermione added. Lord Nott scowled, but conceded. 'And I couldn't tell you earlier - you would have had me sent to St. Mungo's.'
'I still might - giving Grindelwald a wand.' He grumbled, but it seemed that the worst of his ire had been sidelined.
Hermione unfastened the ring from around her neck and passed it to Anneken. She took it reverently and slipped it over her finger. The band resized automatically, snugging up on her finger next to the Krum and Lintzen rings.
Then Flighty appeared at the top of the stairs, brandishing her cane threateningly.
'You's is having a ball to prepare for!' The elf reminded them all. 'I is not seeing the hall being finished yet, and I is seeing only four hours to go!'
'Old bat isn't seeing anything.' Theo grumbled irritably, slouching back over the the brazier he'd been enchanting with blue fire. Hermione elbowed him in reprimand, watched him perform the spell and then waved her wand over the next brazier to set it alight.
An hour later, Hermione was being shuffled back through the floo to Nott Manor. She was the host and therefore she had to look impeccable. She was forced into three different baths - one to take off the sweat, dust and blue from Nurmengard, a second to relax and reinvigorate her tired muscles and a final one to make her skin soft and smelling of the Scottish wilderness.
Sirius came to keep her company whilst she was getting her hair, makeup and nails attended to by the elves, carrying in a slumbering white puppy.
'I'm going to call her Cavella.' Hermione informed him, moving only her eyes lest she be poked by a hairpin. Sirius looked considerably better than he had when he'd first arrived at Nott Manor; the elves had been feeding him a careful regimen designed to help him recover from his malnutrition. They'd ended up sheering almost all of his hair off but it had grown to hang around his ears in a choppy black mess. Days spent with Harry had brought some of the sparkle back into his eyes and had wiped decades from his appearance. He looked very different to the snarling madman in the prophet.
'It's a good name.' Sirius agreed.
'If you let the elves at you now, you could probably come to the ball.' Hermione informed him and Sirius looked at her in surprise. 'In dog form, of course.'
'You don't think that would be dangerous?' He asked.
'Not if you take Cavella with you, they'll just think you're another one of my crazy pets. The Gorlois family used to keep a pack of white Grims as war dogs - I bet they've got dog livery still.' Hermione made the mistake of bouncing excitedly, earning herself a sharp jab with a nail file. 'I would appreciate an inconspicuous set of eyes.'
'No tassels?' Sirius checked, grinning.
'No tassels.' Hermione confirmed. 'You'll find my family are very good at practicality.'
'And dramatics - those fur cloaks that the guards wear?'
Hermione went to wave her hand dismissively, then aborted the movement as an elf waved the nail polish brush warningly.
'Anyone in particular that you want me listening to?' Sirius asked after a moment.
'Lucius Malfoy and Albus Dumbledore.' Hermione replied immediately. 'But a general flavour of the room would be ideal. I haven't had much exposure to the wizarding public outside of Hogwarts.'
'If you're going to pretend that I'm one of your family dogs, you could send me on errands to Diagon Alley. I'll bet everyone will be gossiping tomorrow and I could sniff around for evidence of Peter. He'll be with a wizarding family, I'm sure.'
'If you want.' Hermione agreed easily. The ex-convict looked relieved. 'Flighty!'
The elf appeared with a deafening pop.
'Flighty is busy!' The elf warned.
'I know, but Sirius has generously offered to do some listening for me at the ball, just to make sure everyone is suitably impressed.' Hermione said, 'he needs someone to get him ready, and he'll need one of the war dog liveries - I'm sure the guardians can help find something that will fit.'
'You is taking a dog to a ball.' Flighty said disbelievingly and Hermione gave her a winning smile.
'A dog in uniform.' She corrected. Sirius failed to conceal his scoff. Flighty's expression pinched.
'Flighty is organising, but only because Sirius Black is a good dog who is finding many rats in the castle.'
Hermione turned incredulous eyes on the animagus who shrugged carelessly.
'I don't like rats.' Were his final words before he shifted into dog form and was apparated away by Flighty.
Another hour later and she was finally allowed to put on her dress and at five she finally flooed back to Avalon.
The boys were already ready, dressed in immaculate dress robes. Harry wore his family ring proudly on his left hand and had his right resting on the glossy fur of Sirius' head. The animagus looked dashing in the lightly armoured coat with it's gleaming livery. Cavella yipped loudly from one of the cargo pockets, coat even whiter than the image depicted on the coat. Lord Nott appeared from inside, beckoning for her to come through into the hall.
It looked spectacular; truthfully, very little had changed but Anneken and Daphne had done a spectacular job or accenting the already spectacular room. What had been veritable mountains of flowers in the courtyard were now spectacular arrangements of purple, dotted with arctic white and spruced up with fresh green leaves. In any other room, they would have looked ridiculous, towering over Hermione's head like small trees, but in the colossal hall they looked perfectly proportioned. The chandeliers had been similarly decorated, draping trains of hazel and white blooms that fluttered in the light breeze. The delicate white tables were all set up as well, each with its own miniature bouquet of flowers.
The throne room was similarly decorated, except now a full orchestra waited on the dais where the throne had been. Their instruments gleamed under the light of thousands of candles and that eerie glow that always seemed to light the massive rooms of the castle. The musicians themselves were being served glasses of wine and small sandwiches by the elves, all of whom were dressed like little tin soldiers, but in Gorlois blue instead of red. She drifted through into the dining room. The three long tables still framed the room like a horseshoe and the central hearth burned with cool blue flames that were more aesthetic than warming, guarded by an ornate silver grate that wrapped around it in a complete circle. The two lower side tables were laid out with silver platters, empty but waiting to be filled by the kitchen elves. The top table, fractionally elevated by a single step, was laid out with a dazzling selection of alcohol. A cheerful looking bar tender bounced around behind the table, polishing glasses and chopping fruit to decorate the rims of glasses.
'Lady Gorlois!' He enthused, dropping a hurried bow. Hermione had never met him before but presumed he'd been thoroughly vetted by Anneken. 'Sam Ernet... half blood. You look spectacular by the way, love the way your dress changes colours in the light... I've just started my own bar in Diagon Alley and Lady Krum happened to come by. She said I could bar tend to the biggest ball of the decade and it might improve my reputation.'
Sam Ernet was eager, bouncy and Hermione could easily see why Anneken wanted to cultivate him.
'She's right.' Hermione agreed, looking around pointedly. 'But it would be even better for you if we could put the name of your bar somewhere. Perhaps... charm it onto the table cloth?'
'Seriously... you'd let me?' He asked, eyes wide and eager as his bouncing stilled momentarily.
'Of course. Just...' Hermione leaned over the table, 'if you hear anything about me, do let me know. I want to make the best impression and it can be a bit tricky with my brother looming over my shoulder.'
'Oh wow... yeah, sure.' He grinned at her, whipping out his wand which she noticed had been decorated with a cocktail umbrella, quickly charming the logo and name of his bar onto the table cloth. She was relieved that it wasn't anything obnoxious - just a stylised rendition of a thunderbird in full flight.
'Wonderful. Well, good luck!' Hermione bid, turning around in a swirl of skirts.
'You too!' Sam Ernet called out after her just as Anneken appeared. The elder witch wore a steely dress which matched her hair perfectly, ruby red earrings hanging from her ears to match the roses embroidered around her waist.
'He's a little excitable.' Anneken muttered in Hermione's ear. 'But he's very good and his shop would be doing very well if it wasn't so out of the way - its tucked right in behind the apothecary, so it's easy to miss in daytime.'
Hermione agreed quickly, making her way over to Lord Nott.
'Would you stand with me please?' Hermione asked, gesturing to the floo just as Daphne stepped through. Ginny followed a moment later, dramatically dressed in pale blue that made her elaborately styled hair look incredibly vibrant. She knew that Daphne had seen to it personally because her dorm mate had spent many hours perfecting the do on Hermione's own riotous curls.
Hermione greeted both girls, offering compliments about their dresses and receiving them in turn.
'Mum is furious.' Ginny informed them all. 'The whole family are coming of course but mum and dad think I'm betraying Dumbledore by associating with you all. Dad says I should be trying to save Harry from your evil, Slytherin wiles.'
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
'Okay, maybe he didn't say it quite like that but he made it pretty obvious that I should be spending my time with anyone other than you.'
'That's not very polite.' Neville observed, having appeared with his grandmother. He had a bit of lint on his robes which his gran brushed off aggressively.
'Not at all. Their hearts are in the right place but neither the Prewetts or the Weasleys were ever known for their subtlety.' She tutted. Her gown matched Neville's grey formal robes. They were cut in quite a muggle style and her usually shy classmate looked very dashing.
Lord Nott pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and checked the time.
'Ten minutes.' He cautioned. There was a flurry of movement as the guardians picked up their pennants and checked the way their armour sat.
'Neville, Theodore, Harry... dance cards.' Lady Longbottom instructed and the two purebloods obediently hurried inside to grab the stacks of cards, returning a moment later to hover just behind Hermione as she took Lord Nott's arm. 'Miss Greengrass, Miss Weasley... my, what a remarkable dog!'
As Lady Longbottom moved away, fondling Cavella's silky ears as she walked, Hermione took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her rapidly building nerves.
'Relax, Priestess.' Lord Nott commanded. 'I have it on good authority that you saved yourself from public execution by gutting a dark wizard with a decorative sword. Greeting some guests at a ball is nothing.'
Hermione gave him a dour look.
'That was a desperate move fuelled by adrenaline and desperation.' She said dryly.
'Perhaps, but it was still inspirational. I didn't realise that the Grindelwald that Petrovna Yaxley babbles about was you and not your brother.'
'Petrovna is still alive?' Hermione demanded.
'Yes, she has a seat on the wizangamot but only because she hexes anyone who tries to take it from her. She was... well... Grindelwald did not take kindly to being refused.'
Hermione bit her lip.
'Will she be here today?' Hermione asked.
'I am unsure. She replied to the invitation, but I've never heard of her attending a formal event.'
They were interrupted by the floo flaring to life. The Greengrass family were the first to arrive, clearly eager to see the work of their eldest daughter. Hermione took great pleasure in the dumbfounded expressions as they took in the colossus that speared into the sky above them. The sun was just beginning to make it's way down towards the horizon and it silhouetted the castle against the purpling sky, casting deep shadows and trimming the edges in gold.
'Welcome to Avalon, Lord and Lady Greengrass, Astoria.' Hermione greeted them with a nod and the two replied in kind.
'Ah, Lord Nott! Now I understand how you came upon such a rich bounty of fern flowers... Lord Parkinson is over the moon to have such an easy supply for his skin lotions.' Lord Greengrass clapped Lord Nott on the back in a masculine manner before Neville shuffled forwards with cards and offered to show them all around.
Barely a second had passed before the floo lit up again and the Parkinsons swept through, noses in the air, expressions only faltering slightly as they took in the scenery. Again, Hermione was glad for Lord Nott who knew them better and could engage in the brief and obligatory small talk that was essential for greeting guests before Theo came forwards to show them in.
What followed was a massive procession of witches and wizards whose names blended into a blur of bright silk, chiffon and awfully bewitched hats. Occasionally, Lord Nott would squeeze her arm to indicate that the next guest was someone of particular note. She met all manner of wixen in all manner of outfits; some had clearly donned their only pair of dress robes whilst others wore priceless jewels and family heirlooms. Some feigned disinterest in the castle, many more were awestruck. Even more interesting that their clothing was their reactions to Hermione. Several looked at her like she was a curious bug beneath a microscope, a couple trembled with such terror that Hermione was amazed they'd even made it to the ball.
The Malfoys were a particular point of interest in the evening, arriving in their finery almost an hour after Hermione had invited them. Lucius still held onto his distance, pointing his nose up into the air and sneering down at her but she could tell that he was shaken. The proof that she was close to Grindelwald was now indisputable and the might of the Gorlois line was displayed right in front of them. Narcissa Malfoy was much moe friendly than her husband, complimenting Hermione's dress and the way it shifted between blue and purple depending on the light. Hermione complimented her hair and how the little sapphires brought out the colour in her eyes.
Every now and again, Sirius would come and check up on her, loping out through the doors and weaving between skirts. Invariably, his appearance would invite cooing from everyone in the line and occasionally Cavella would poke her head out of the pouch and distract everyone, allowing Hermione to relax her fixed smile.
'Almost there.' Harry whispered as he passed. 'There's only a handful of dance cards left.'
'Thank Circe.' Hermione muttered. Her feet ached and she hadn't even danced yet.
'Oh! You must be the youngest Grindelwald!' A witch tottered over, her mile high heels wobbling on the slightly uneven cobbles. 'I'm Rita Skeeter, for the Daily Prophet.'
Hermione tore her attention away from Harry. Lord Nott was rigid, but Hermione didn't need him to tell her that this woman was dangerous.
'A pleasure to meet you, Mrs Skeeter. I sent your wonderful article on to my brother; he does so love reading positive things about me in the papers.'
Rita Skeeter blanched but quickly recovered, whipping out a parchment pad.
'I do hope you could spare me a moment?' Rita was already writing, her eyes darting around the courtyard. 'Could you tell my readers what your relationship with Gellert Grindelwald is?'
'He's my patriarch.' Hermione replied, then elaborated before the quill could do it for her. If she kept it busy noting down her words, it wouldn't have time to fill in sensationalised details. 'We're very close though, I think that Gellert loves me more than anything. We don't get to meet in person very often but I'm hoping that my letters should get through much more reliably now that I've worked with the warden in person.'
'Would you call him a good guardian?' Skeeter asked, looking delighted.
'He's very protective and he ensured that I received only the best education before coming to Hogwarts.'
'And he's never hurt you, never tried to get you to practice the dark arts?'
'I find that question offensive, Rita. Gellert wants the best for me, and he encourages me to pursue my interests. I am very accomplished with runes and warding, and I spent a short amount of time exploring alchemy with Nicholas Flamel, which was organised through the House of Grindelwald.'
'Very advanced... Now, tell me, is that dress one of Anneken Krum's designs?' Rita changed the subject quickly and Hermione almost sighed in relief. Dresses were easy to talk about.
'Yes, all of my friends that assisted in the planning of the ball have been dressed by her today. You'll see Ginevra Weasley and Heir Daphne Greengrass, Lord Potter, Heir Nott and Heir Longbottom, as well as Lord Nott and Lady Longbottom are all wearing Lady Krum's dresses.'
'Wonderful, wonderful...' Skeeter opened her mouth to ask another question but Lord Nott cleared his throat.
'I'm sorry, Mrs Skeeter. I really must greet these guests.' Hermione excused herself, heaving a sigh of relief when the woman was gone, poisonous green dress and ruby coat fading into the crowd.
'You handed that well.' Lord Nott noted under his breath as they finished greeting the next guests.
'Fear of Gellert will not keep someone like her at bay forever. I need something more immediate.' Hermione replied, shaking the hand of Daedalus Diggle, who wore a muggle penguin suit with a notably large top hat.
Then Dumbledore arrived. He'd worn an oddly unremarkable set of mauve dress robes; the colour was bad for his complexion but there was no garish print or decoration.
'What a magical place.' He mused, adjusting his spectacles as he looked up. The sky was now a deeply bruised purple and the castle was lit by glowing sconces that speckled the walls like the stars that were just beginning to appear in the background.
'It is, isn't it.' Hermione agreed.
'It might even be larger than Hogwarts - what do you plan to do with a fortress large enough to house several hundred?'
'Host excessive balls?' Hermione suggested, gesturing to the open doors. Laughter and music spilled out like the golden glow of the candles.
'Or perhaps hide an escaped prisoner?' Dumbledore suggested. Hermione's heart clenched. 'These wards are remarkable - almost suffocating in their strength. I wonder who it is that you fear?'
'Me?' Hermione asked. She knew that the wards were powerful, but they'd never felt oppressive to her before. Was that because she was the High Priestess, or were they sensing something in the headmaster that she couldn't? 'These are not my wards. Morgana had many enemies though; you could ask her statue.'
Dumbledore blinked, then moved away when Ginny appeared to show him into the ballroom.
Then, finally, they were at the end of the line. Lord Nott checked his watch - it was just past nine.
He offered to remain near the floo incase someone arrived late whilst Hermione headed in for a drink and a bite to eat. She was more than happy to agree, rustling across the courtyard and into the hall.
She had to pause in the doorway; the room was packed with people at milling around and socialising. She'd imagined the ball before; spent hour upon hour fretting over it, but the hall was designed to be full of people. The tall ceiling meant that it still felt spacious and the air was pleasantly cool despite the large crowd. She slipped through, greeting guests before reaching the throne room. The orchestra were playing a magnificent piece and the floor was full; most of the dancers were terrible, but enough knew the steps that there was some semblance of order. The music faded and the dancers dispersed. The next one was a quadrille - more complex and intricate in it's footwork. Many of the dancers didn't return, leaving just the finest dressed which suggested that it was primarily the purebloods and their allies.
'May I have this dance?' Theo asked, appearing at her side and bowing deeply. Hermione heaved an exhausted sigh and fixed a smile on her face.
'Certainly, Heir Nott.' She curtsied and allowed him to lead her onto the floor.
Dancing was Theo was easy. It was not as exhilarating as dancing with Gellert, who liked to show off with deep dips and soaring lifts, always taking the most complex steps when there was a chance. Theo was good enough to lead Hermione on the floor without faltering or looking to her for cues, but he rarely strayed from the accepted steps. She was able to relax and allow herself to be swept around the floor, observing the guests from the corner of her eyes.
'It's going well so far - there's been a bit of discussion about the guardians, but we expected that.' Theo informed her as they spun around the voluminous Mrs Weasley, who wore a hideous fluffy cardigan over her dress.
'General consensus?'
'Isn't it exciting that we get to go to a ball!' Theo tittered in a high pitched imitation of a witch. Hermione flattened her expression and Theo snickered before surrendering. 'The drinks are excellent, the food is very good, the castle in spectacular. Some of the other sacred twenty-eight criticised the... variety... of guests, but again that was to be expected.'
'Do we have any idea what the light bloc are thinking?'
'Beastie is stalking Dumbledore to make sure he doesn't try to go anywhere he shouldn't, I think Cavella and Padfoot overheard some interesting conversation but...' Theo's cheeks tinged pink. 'The Notts are a pretty well known dark family. It's unlikely that any of that lot are going to be too open around me. Perhaps they might be looser tongued around Ginny?'
'I'll ask her.' Hermione assured as she twisted her feet into a complex series of steps that made her skirts swish around her legs. Theo guided her through the move with gently pushes and pulls of their joined hand, and her dress shimmered between its two colours, earning her a series of "oohs" from some of the nearby women.
'She was around the walls with Daphne, I believe, making sure that everyone who wants to dance has a partner.' Theo informed her, bowing deeply as the dance finished. Hermione curtsied back and he led her to the side of the room.
'Have you danced with Daphne today?' She asked, wishing she was tall enough to see over people's heads.
'No. She's got her eyes set on Malfoy.' Theo scoffed and Hermione couldn't help her nose wrinkling.
'But he's such a...'
'Peacock?' Daphne finished, swanning up behind them. 'True, but he is a very rich peacock and I do like a gentleman that knows how to look after himself.' She mimed fanning herself and Hermione and Theo rolled their eyes. 'But, alas, Draco had given a whole three dances to Pansy Parkinson, one to his mother and even one to Astoria. I shall take you up on your offer, Theo.'
'Glad to know I'm your last resort.' Theo grumbled, but he bowed smoothly and led Daphne off towards the dance floor. Hermione was left alone in the crowd, smiling at her friends. Then she turned and began battling through the crowd to find Ginny.
It took far longer than it should have; Hermione kept having to stop as people whose names she couldn't remember asked her questions and engaged her in conversation.
'...I had to let Lucas go, you see, the new werewolf employment legislation makes the security protocols almost impossible to follow. I'd hoped we might be able to... well, I'm not stupid, I run an apothecary, I noticed that he always called in sick over a full moon but he seemed to have it well under control and he was a truly excellent brewer. I had hoped that we could get away with not acknowledging it, but he always was too law abiding.' An old man with a large belly shook his head in dismay.
'Do you think he was brewing wolfsbane? That new potion?' A similarly aged man with an almost identical jacket asked. Hermione's ears perked up.
'No, no. It's highly controlled. You need a mastery at least to receive the recipe.'
'Excuse me?' Hermione asked, hovering just outside their space.
'Miss Grindelwald, an honour.' The first man bowed deeply, his mustard waistcoat groaning in protest.
'I'm sorry, but I must have missed that piece of legislation. Could you explain it please?' She moved forwards, having been acknowledged as the two men shuffled aside to let her in. They were clutching wine glasses, cheeks flushed ruddy from excessive consumption.
'Nasty business, the new werewolf laws. Poor sods have to declare that they have lycanthropy to their employer, and then we have to either provide wolfsbane potion or not allow them on the premises for a week either side of the full and provide full sick pay.' The mustard coated man explained.
'That awful Umbridge woman got it through the wizangamot as a compassionate measure, but nobody's going to employ someone they know is going to only work two weeks of the month.' The second wizard grumbled.
'It's not like they're really half breeds.' Mustard coat complained. 'I'd call them curse victims myself.'
'Umbridge doesn't care.' The second added. 'She'd have been right in with You-Know-Who if she were any older.'
'Thank you.' Hermione said quickly, not wanting to be drawn into a conversation insulting anyone she didn't actually know. Umbridge sounded foul, but Hermione needed to meet her to make her own judgement.
'Not that she'd touch you, of course' Mustard man added hastily, ignoring Hermione's attempt to extract herself.
'But wouldn't you love to see it? Gellert Grindelwald descending on Umbridge's office?'
Hermione slipped away, certain that the men wouldn't notice her absence and judging by the slurring, reasoning that they probably wouldn't remember by tomorrow anyway.
She finally found Ginny, hiding behind one of the flower arrangements in the entrance hall. Her distinctive hair was a dead giveaway when she poked her head cautiously through the hazel leaves.
'Shh. Cormac Mclaggen's dad keeps trying to make me hang around with him. He's been pestering mum about a betrothal for as long as I can remember.' Ginny hissed, tugging Hermione into the foliage as well.
'I'm surprised your mother went for it.' Hermione answered dryly.
'She didn't. That's the problem. She said who I marry is my choice, and now they're both desperate to talk me into it.'
'Is that so bad? Surely if he's that desperate?' Hermione asked, pulling Ginny out from the flowers. 'Oh come on, he's unlikely to find you with this many people in here.'
'You've never met Cormac, have you?' Ginny asked dryly.
'Why didn't you just get the boys to fill up your dance card - one with Theo, one with Harry, one with Neville.' Hermione ticked them off on her fingers. 'One with Percy - he's poncy enough that you could guilt him into it. Then you could cross off another three, that means you'd only need to find three more partners.'
'Do you think you could invite Grindelwald to one of these - Cormac wouldn't come close if I danced with him.' Ginny laughed and Hermione rolled her eyes, resigned to the reality of having the world really believe in her relation to Grindelwald now. Apparently that reality was wistful imaginings of her brother scaring off other people.
'Has anyone said anything interesting?' Hermione asked, following Ginny out into the dark courtyard. The flaming braziers lit small pools, and groups huddled around them. There were very few of the silken gowns and jewels that dominated the ball room out here; it seemed the deeply ingrained prejudices of wizarding society prevailed even here.
It was well past dark and a chill hung in the air, blowing off the sea with the heavy threat of a storm.
'It won't come for hours yet.' Someone croaked. Hermione jumped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. A shadowy figure detached from the shadows - dressed in black and bent almost double over a silver cane. It was a woman, battered by time and hardship. Her hair hung in two long braids, draping over her shoulders like thick rope, her gaunt cheeks tight over her skull.
'I'm sorry. I didn't see you there.' Hermione apologised, grateful that the blue light hid the scarlet blush that burned her skin.
'No, no you didn't.' The witch answered, seeming greatly amused by that admission. 'You don't know me.'
'No.' Hermione agreed, feeling even more disconcerted with every second.
'But I know you.' The woman cackled. 'And I know your brother!'
Hermione blinked, not quite sure what to say as the woman grew closer and closer.
'He took wasn't too happy when I said I didn't like his plans - he cursed my fingers off, see. Said I wasn't worthy of wielding my wand.' The witch brandished the hand that had been tucked into her black shawl, revealing that the fingers were all missing. Horrified, feeling sick, Hermione stumbled backwards, tripping over the hem of her own dress and falling into Ginny who was just as terrified.
'But he's in prison now - they're all in prison. Everyone ends up in prison.' The woman cackled. Hermione was moments away from calling her guardians when a man in a set of pastel healers robes rushed up.
'Oh, I should have known you were here. You're not harassing...' He froze, seeming to recognise Hermione. 'Oh, oh my, I'm truly sorry. She's not meant to leave the house, but she slipped away... I'll be taking her home now, my apologies. Come along, Lady Yaxley...'
'Dolohov. I'm a Dolohov.' The woman croaked, allowing herself to be led towards the floo before Hermione even had a chance to react.
'Circe... Petrovna.' Hermione swore. For the first time, real anger burned at Gellert's actions. Petrovna had been a powerful, independent witch and he'd ruined her.
'She's nuts, Hermione. Everyone knows that all the Dolohovs are.' Ginny assured her, straightening her robes with the purposeful air of some determined to pretend they hadn't just reacted as they had. 'Her grandson killed both of my uncles for You-Know-Who; he's spending the rest of his life in Azkaban.'
'All of her family were hung from a gallows in front of her by Russian Revolutionaries when she was fourteen. She was the only survivor.' Hermione replied bitterly. Ginny gaped. 'We never know the full story.'
For a moment, Ginny looked at her in shocked silence. Hermione couldn't bring herself to regret her harsh words - seeing what Petrovna had become had shaken her.
'Is that why you like Lord Nott?' The young Gryffindor eventually asked. 'Because you know the whole story, when everyone else only knows that he was one of You-Know-Who's followers.'
'No.' Hermione replied, still looking at the spot where Petrovna had disappeared into the floo. 'I am giving him a chance to right his wrongs; sitting in a cell does not make things better for anyone.'
Ginny was silent for a moment.
'I guess. Dolohov used to create his own spells - I bet he could do incredible things if he wanted to help.' Ginny finally admitted.
'Black came to get me; he thought you might be in trouble.' Anneken explained, approaching with a rustle of skirts. She looked spectacular; as fresh as she had in the morning. Hermione felt like he'd been awake for weeks rather than a day.
'We're okay... Petrovna made it.' Hermione explained. Anneken's face softened in understanding and her hand reappeared from a hidden pocket in her dress that Hermione suspected held her wand.
'It wasn't Gellert that left her like that; she hated Yaxley by the time they married but it was Antonin's imprisonment that was the final straw. He was the first one of her descendants that she said had the fire to be named a Dolohov, and he joined Voldemort and ended up in prison.' Anneken sighed heavily. 'She has good days and bad days. I assume by your expressions that this was a bad day.'
Hermione nodded mutely.
'It's past ten. Why don't you both go to Nott Manor and head to bed - you're both underage, so it can be excused. I'll send Flighty to make you both cocoa.' Anneken placed a hand in the small of each girl's back and guided them to the floo. Hermione surrendered. It was unlikely that anyone would even notice that she was gone with so many people here anyway.