Samhain came around incredibly quickly when there was no drama at school. With Alice's expulsion the year before, the revolutionaries seemed to have lost most of their drive, particularly because Hermione had somehow survived the executions, much to the awe of his classmates. There were whispers in the hall about how she had managed to do it; survive when the entire Russian Coven and the Baba Yaga had not.
Some people seemed convinced that she was a dark witch, other seemed to think that she was lucky whilst some muttered that she was a fey changeling; a fey child snuck into a mortal household to be raised outside the ruthless court of the powerful creatures.
Gellert ignored them all, revelling in the freedom to ride Kelpie across the dramatic landscape during lunch and swim in the fjord before lessons. His collection of Mer scales was growing and he'd posted several packages to the Gorlois family via owl. Berg had joined him once or twice, reluctantly working off the excess weight from his leisurely summer with the Shafiq family in preparation for seeing Hermione again over Samhain.
They came home a day early, stepping through the portal to the Hawdon home. As usual, Hermione was already waiting for them. With remarkable agility she leaned down from her massive mount to wrap an arm around his shoulders before riding over to do the same to him. He was proud to note that she was barely taller than him, despite Katana being almost a foot taller in the shoulder than Kelpie.
Then she reached down and picked up his hand, riding close enough to continue holding it as they made their way through the dense woodland to Hawdon House. It was a pretty place; small for a Manor House and painted a warm, sunshine yellow. The slate roof had a greenish tinge that complemented the bright flare of autumn colours which surrounded it and carefully cultivated hedges grew against the walls. Gellert had never actually been inside; the Hawdon family were not an ancient family - old, but not ancient and certainly not as wealthy as many of the others. They were content to let the Grindelwalds, the Lintzens and the Tunningers host the events.
A trio of house elves greeted them at the doors, which were painted a fresh white and surrounded by a pretty stone facade of the same shade as the roof. He found it rather attractive, despite not being particularly impressive.
The elves took their mounts, presumably leading them off towards the stables whilst they each straightened their robes. Hermione was wearing her pearl necklace and her empty sheath at her side. Gellert had already asked Mordred to help him design a practical athame to fill it, knowing that Hermione would certainly want something useful rather than ornamental and hoping that he could respect her ancient Gorlois roots with it's design.
As if in an attempt to show off the necklace, she was wearing a dress that matched the colour of the greyish blue pearls and that floated like layered petals around her, allowing her to ride astride without exposing her ankles indecently. She leaned over and transfigured his necktie to match, grinning up at him. Berg mimed gagging behind them.
'Hermione, Gellert, Berg!' Frau Hawdon greeted warmly, emerging into the warm autumn sunlight. 'Come in, we're eating on the patio to enjoy the last bit of warmth.'
With a small shrug to one another, they followed her inside.
Like the exterior, the interior of Hawdon House was bright and sunny. The walls and ceilings were painted white and the floor was creamy, pale floorboards. There were lots of mirrors, reflecting the light from the windows across the airy corridor and ensuring that no groove or hollow was gloomy. To the right, a large staircase curved up and over their heads to a landing, the bannisters decorated with carved acorns that had been meticulously picked out in gold leaf.
They were led straight down the corridor, ignoring the doors to either side of them and through the glass double door at the far end, emerging onto a large stone platform which stretched the entire length of the back of the house. Just below that was the start of the lawns, which seemed to have been picked out between the largest of the trees in the forest; bright patches of green grass among the fiery leaves. Just off to the left was an emerald pond that could have been mistaken for another patch of grass if it weren't for the water feature at one end. A table had been set out, many of the seats already occupied by members of the coven. The children were already clustered in one of the patches of grass, playing what looked like gobstones. Several of them waved, but Gellert only waved back before dragging his sister and brother down the short flight of stairs and over to the relative privacy of the pond. He didn't particularly care to socialise with the other children their age; their experiences over the past couple of years had aged them far faster than the others, placing them mentally as far older than their peers and forcing them to be far more magically capable that anyone else their age. Only their trio had been deeply involved in the fighting and the bitter politics of the revolution and he found the others were often grating in their petty concerns and naive games.
Hermione conjured them a thick blanket to sit on and Gellert made sure that she was settled before doing the same himself. With the last of summer beaming down upon them, Hermione related stories about her disastrous Magizoology teacher and her friend's pathetic divination teacher. Even Hermione, who had the least refined sight that Gellert had ever come across, could read tea leaves better than she could. She seemed far happier with her Arithmancy classes. It was a new and poorly understood subject so Gellert was surprised that they studied it in third year at Hogwarts, particularly when they didn't study so many other topics but it certainly sounded fascinating as Hermione described it to them... although that kind of magic was like a foreign language to him - he just didn't have the head for runes and numbers, unlike her.
The sun slowly slipped towards the horizon as they chatted about the lessons at Durmstrang; they were covering muggles in their Ethics class which led to some fascinating conversations. Gellert was adamant hat the statute of secrecy only harmed both sides - the muggles, who would otherwise be able to benefit from magical healing and the comforts and securities that magic could provide whilst the wixen would be able to develop and practice much more freely without constant oversight and the need to remain hidden. Berg thought that there was a good reason why muggles and wixen remained separated and Hermione... despite being the most knowledgable, remained very quiet during the whole debate.
Eventually, as the sky began to flush a deep, rosy crimson that almost matched the leaves, they were summoned to the table for dinner.
As usual, Gellert and Hermione were sat in the middle of the table, just below the coven members, but above the rest of the children, among those who had already graduated. Anneken winked at Gellert across the table, tapping her neckline approvingly and then nodding towards Hermione. Gellert blushed. She was the first to notice outside of the family.
Frau Hassel sat next to her; the jovial, slightly rotund potions master inquiring as to whether Anneken had set a date for her wedding yet. Anneken replied that they were considering performing the ritual on the day before Ostara in the hopes that the ritual would help them conceive during consummation. Hermione blushed fiercely, looking studiously at her plate as the first course appeared in front of them.
'Oh, wonderful. I do love pea soup.' Frau Hassel leaned forwards and dipped her finger into her bowl as an elf served her, winking naughtily at them before sticking it in her mouth to lick clean. Her husband slapped her fingers good-naturedly whilst Frau Fleiss's fingers whitened around her glass in annoyance. 'Oh, a lovely hint of black pepper.' The witch praised the elf as it served her husband.
Then she suddenly went very pale, her eyes blowing wide in shock and fear. A hand came up to her chest and her mouth opened in a silent 'o'.
'Frau Hassel?' Gellert asked in concern as the silence lengthened.
'Darling?' Her husband asked, reaching up to turn her face towards him. Hermione's scream almost shattered his eardrums as the wizard's fingers dug into Frau Hassel's skin like she was built of sand, sending a flurry of dark powder down to the floor. Gellert froze in his chair, horrified.
'Rose!' His mother cried sharply, her chair banging backwards as she jumped to her feet. The other coven members were getting up quickly too; Herr Lintzen bodily dragged Herr Hassel away from his wife whilst Frau Fleiss and Frau Dünhaupt pressed closer, casting diagnostics that came back worryingly blank.
Anneken quickly began shepherding the younger children away, but nobody came for Gellert, Berg and Hermione.
'The soup.' His sister muttered, sounding shell shocked. 'The soup was poisoned somehow.'
'Yes.' Berg breathed, his voice almost inaudible through the hand that covered his mouth. Gellert slipped out of his chair and over to his mother who was in a hurried conference with several other members of the coven. He informed her quickly of Hermione's suspicion.
She looked at him appraisingly.
'I want you, Berg and Hermione to take your elves and secure the soup then - cast bubble head charms and for Circe's sake don't touch it. I want the bowl that she was served from, the bowl that she ate from and the bowls served before and after hers.' His mother instructed, turning to Herr Hawdon and Frau Lintzen, 'please go to the kitchens, see if you can find any evidence.'
They all nodded, separating. Gellert quickly returned to his sister, pulling her into a tight embrace before relaying their mission.
Hermione still hadn't torn her eyes away from the form of Frau Hassel, who's chocolate skin had begun to crumble away like a statue worn by time. Already, her fingers were becoming a smooth stump and the definition of her facial features were being lost. Her tightly braided hair had smoothed to her skull and her collar sagged loosely around her neck. Gellert pulled her away firmly, casting a bubble head charm as he summoned his elf.
'Take her away.' He instructed Berg firmly, passing him the bowls. 'And keep this safe.'
Berg reached for Hermione, only to be shrugged off. When the young witch finally met his gaze, her eyes - usually a bright, sparkling brown - burned with fury as white hot as her magic.
'No. I can help.' She insisted, her wand appearing in her hand as if she'd apparated it there. 'Flighty!'
Her house elf popped in, hurling herself at her mistress' legs and sobbing in relief.
'Flighty is so happy yous is okay.' The elf cried. Hermione patted her head, then shrugged her off.
'I need you to take us to the pot of pea soup, Flighty.' Hermione instructed. 'Is it in the kitchen? The elf that was carrying it, where did it go?'
'Flighty is not knowing, but Flighty will be showing mistress the kitchens.' The elf knotted her fingers, then led Hermione off. Gellert trailed behind her as Berg carefully preserved the soup bowls from the table.
Like most kitchens, the one in Hawdon House was built for elves. The work benches were all knee high and the ceiling was so low that he had to stoop. Herr Hawdon and Frau Lintzen were already present, waving their wands over every surface and lighting them up in a dazzling array of lights, taking notes on a sheet of parchment.
'Gellert, Hermione.' Frau Lintzen greeted curtly, distracted by whatever was glowing blue in her latest detection spell.
'Where are all the elves?' Hermione demanded, bending over even further as if they might be hidden underneath one of the tables.
'In their quarters, ordered not to leave their beds until I allow them to.' Herr Hawdon answered, as distracted as the witch he worked with.
'Just cinnamon.' Frau Lintzen muttered, dismissing the blue glow and moving on to another surface.
'We need to speak with them.' Hermione informed the owner of the house uncompromisingly. Herr Hawdon shrugged.
'Meet Miss Grindelwald in the hall.' He instructed the air. Assuming that the elves would meet them as ordered, Hermione and Gellert left. They climbed up the stairs quickly, squeezing out through the small door at the top of the servant's passage and emerged into the hall. With the elves locked down, nobody had lit the lamps yet. Gellert did so with a wave of his wand, bathing the hall in warm, golden light.
The Hawdon family owned seven elves, all of whom wore crisp white pillowcases emblazoned with a black raven. They bowed when they saw the two young wixen emerge from the corridor.
'Is this all of you?' Gellert demanded as soon as they were within reasonable speaking distance.
'Yes, sirs.' The eldest elf replied smartly. He had a black belt around his pillowcase, which Gellert assumed signalled his rank as the head elf. He peered at them, certain that he hadn't seen the distinctive uniform on the elf that had been serving dinner.
'Who served dinner?' He demanded next. Hermione seemed to have noticed the discrepancy as well and was frowning at the seven elves. Flighty hovered at her side.
'We is not been serving any dinner yet.' The head elf answered, wringing his hands. 'We is been... we is been running late.' The elf admitted with a wail.
'Running late?' Hermione asked sharply. 'Why?'
'The oven is not being hot enough. Yeasty is making a mistake and the breads is not being ready.' The head elf gestured to the youngest elf, who was tugging sharply on her ears and sniffling.
'Yeasty?' Hermione's tone changed to one of kindness as she carefully kneeled down next to the guilt elf, pulling its hands from it's ears and holding them gently. The elf looked up at her with silvery eyes. 'Did you make a mistake, Yeasty?'
'Yeasty must have been making a mistake, young Mistress.' The elf sniffed.
'Yes, but do you actually remember making it?' Hermione pressed. The elf hesitated, then shook it's head. 'So it's not your fault, Yeasty. See? Someone must have wanted to make sure you didn't serve your soup, so that they could have their elf serve their poisoned soup instead.'
Seven pairs of large elfin eyes fixed on Hermione with disbelief. Gellert gritted his teeth firmly. If his sister was correct, the elf had probably long since disapparated along with the tureen of soup and any clues it might have held. They would have to hope that they could get the clues they needed from the bowls that Berg protected with Beastie. Whilst he was thinking, Hermione asked several more questions - Whether they had seen anyone else in the kitchen? Where the bread oven sat and how long ago they'd noticed that the temperature was wrong.
When she was done and had dismissed the elves, Gellert wrapped her into the tightest hug he could manage. She reciprocated immediately, tucking her arms beneath his and burying her face into his chest.
'I'm so glad it wasn't you.' She said, her voice almost lost in his jacket. 'It could have been anyone... all of us, if Frau Hassel hadn't tasted it first.'
Gellert took a deep, shuddering breath as he realised just how close they'd come to utter disaster.
'We're going to The Barrows.' He decided. 'I doubt even a house elf could get through those wards, and we'll be safe there with your guardians to protect us and the soups.'
Hermione nodded into his chest, pulling away and wiping her eyes firmly. He hadn't even noticed that she'd been crying.
'You're right. Whomever sent that poison will be desperate to destroy any evidence; we need to keep it safe.'
Still holding hands, they went outside again in search of Berg. Their brother was standing close to their matriarch, bubble head in place as he carefully separated the soup into vials. Gellert quickly relayed his plans, receiving his mother's blessing in an instant. She personally escorted them and their precious cargo to the portal, accompanied by Anneken, Herr Lintzen and Frau Kollmann on her goat.
'Stay safe.' She instructed. 'Have Lord Gorlois put these somewhere away from you, and I'll come for you in the morning once we've finished up here.'
'Will we still be doing Samhain?' Hermione asked quickly. Lady Grindelwald looked at her seriously.
'No. It would be foolish to perform such a dangerous ritual at such a volatile time.'
His sister nodded obediently, then turned to open the portal as his mother pulled Gellert aside.
'Keep her safe; I fear that the revolutionaries are particularly keen to remove her after she so publicly escaped their last murder attempt.' She instructed.
'Won't they find her when she apparates away later?' He asked, concerned. His mother sniffed.
'For all it's flaws, Hogwarts is at least well defended and the revolutionaries have no real foothold in Britain. She will be fine. It is now that we must worry. Be safe, I will see you tomorrow.'
With that farewell, she looked pointedly at Hermione who was already waiting astride Katana at the silvery veil. He clambered up onto Kelpie, took her hand and rode through the portal to Orkney.