Hermione had been keeping her parents up to date on proceedings as far as she could through letters which were liable to be intercepted, so when she wrote to ask if they would mind him joining the family, they sent a positive reply the very next day, joking that perhaps they'd see her more if her friends came home with her.

Of course, to anyone intercepting her letters, Hermione was just going to put in a bid for custody; it was only her friends and Professor McGonagall that knew otherwise. Hermione then handed that letter to McGonagall, and the transfiguration professor replied by assigning them all detention for being out after curfew. They hadn't been, but they were often close enough that it wouldn't surprise anyone to hear that they'd been caught out.

The rest of Hermione's group had grumbled about the day of detention until they arrived on the specified Saturday morning to discover that the professor had planned to have them practice duelling under her supervision. Then whilst her friends limbered up behind them, Hermione slipped through the floo with Harry at her heels.

Avalon's main courtyard was surprisingly busy; it seemed like all of the werewolves and their families were enjoying the first spring sunlight in the sheltered, communal space. The children were being kept occupied by a couple of guardians who were teaching them to sword fight with roughly shaped sticks whilst their parents relaxed with books, embroidery or even just snoozed. Several jumped to their feet at the roar of flames, looking like they'd been caught doing something illegal.

'We're just passing through.' She informed them. The tension remained in the air as she crossed to the stables to fetch Katana. Almost immediately, one of the house elves appeared and bemoaned her tendency to saddle her own mount, crying that it wasn't appropriate for a lady to handle her own harness. She sent it to fetch Mordred's sword whilst she finished up, then mounted up on the closes block, waiting for the elf to pop back in a second later.

Harry had waited outside and he complained mildly as she hauled him up behind her and rode through the portal, leaving the werewolves to their weekend.

Orkney clearly hadn't gotten the memo that it was spring. Freezing rain slashed through their school robes like knives through silk. Katana moaned in protest, tucking his wings against his sides and bowing his head. Harry flipped her hood up for her, trapping her wildly blowing hair beneath it.

They trotted to The Barrow, barely able to see one cairn from the next as Katana splashed along the slightly higher ground of the track. Harry was a terrible rider, bouncing around all over the place and kicking Hermione's ankles, but her wonderful beast put up with it and there was a guardian waiting for them at the doorway with a thick, woollen blanket to warm the poor Longma up.

Whilst her friends had all been to The Barrow for Yule rituals, none of them had actually been down into the depths of the family stronghold. He was comfortable with the guardians, so when he emerged into the entrance room, he merely looked around as if trying to guess where the hidden door was. The left hand guardian clacked, and they opened the doorway for them, allowing the two to make their way down.

Gorlois met them at the bottom of the staircase, arms folded across his chest.

'You're meant to be at school.' He stated.

'Professor McGonagall let us leave.' Harry answered, peering around Hermione to get a look at the long hallway.

'I'm planning to take Harry as a ward of the family.' Hermione explained. 'It looks likely that the outcome of the ministry custody battle will be less than favourable, but we can circumvent that if I become his magical guardian.'

'He doesn't have a magical guardian already?' Asked the ancient duke.

'We believe it would be Lady Malfoy, but I don't believe the family actually practice the old ways for all their claims of traditionalism. The position has not been ritually acknowledged.'

Gorlois harrumphed, and gestured for Harry to step out. For a minute, the elder inspected him, poking at his arms and stomach, then making him cast a wandless spell and throw a punch. It was an odd sort of interview, but Harry must have passed because the founder of the line finally grunted an affirmative.

'A ward of the family he shall be. I shall summon the spirits...'

'He won't be joining the Sect.' Hermione interrupted. 'Just becoming a ward of the family.'

'Just the family then.' Gorlois agreed, disappearing into the wardstone room.

'You have to change first.'

'I'm not wearing any iron.' Harry protested. Hermione faltered for a moment, confused by the relevance of iron to the situation. Then she remembered that the only ritual Harry had actually been a part of was a sun festival.

'Oh, this one is different. You can't wear any metal or animal fibre.' She led him into the store room and began rooting through the many chests of clothing to find them each something appropriate. A moment later she emerged with an unbleached cotton tunic and linen trousers for Harry and a dress made of woven nettles - she'd been horrified when she'd first learned of the ancient textile, but had quickly learned that it was the softest of the natural fibres that her ancestors had used. Harry disappeared behind one of the shelves to change, and Hermione went in the opposite direction, quickly pulling off her warm cloak and slipping into the loose dress, rummaging in the chest again to find a linen sash to tie around the loose waist.

'Hermione?' Harry called, peering around the end of the shelf. She glanced up at him, noticing that his face was almost as red as the shield on the wall behind him. 'Do I have to take off my underwear?'

'If it's got elastic?'

Harry grimaced and disappeared back behind the shelves, emerging a moment later in the plain clothes. Hermione grimaced, deciding that the guardians had done a much better job of picking out ritual clothing for her initiation into the sect.

'What next?' Harry asked, rubbing his arms through the roughly woven sleeves. It was icy cold without their many layers of cloaks and robes.

'Do you remember the words?'

Harry nodded, looking very nervous. Hermione forced herself to look confident, despite her own nerves. She'd only performed this ritual once, and she'd been on the other side of it then.

Outside the room, the family were already waiting. When she'd joined the sect, everyone bound to the family had been present, but this time it was only those related by blood or marriage. She recognised several ghosts - Morgana, Igraine, Morgause... And even more of the skeletons; all four of Mordred's squib brothers were present, clustered around their youngest sibling. As soon as they saw the duo emerging, they began drumming their bone heels against the floor. The sound crescendoed rapidly, ringing through the enclosed chamber until it was almost deafening. Then it cut off and Gorlois stepped forwards, bowing to Hermione.

'High Priestess.' He greeted. 'You have summoned the family. What would you have us do?'

'I would extend the protection of the family to Harry Potter, until he is able to protect himself.' She answered. Hermione had never done any kind of casting with Lady Grindelwald that involved a ritual summoning of the family magic; with only two generations, Lady Grindelwald was directly bonded to them all, but the matriarch had made sure to teach Hermione how to do it should it ever be needed.

She reached down into her magical core, sliding past her own bright fire until she reached the ancient otherness of the family magic. It was already awakened, recognising those around it and stirring with anticipation. She could feel as the magic flared through their bonds, waking each one individually, then she felt the reverse echo through her sect bond as each member answered the family magic by opening themselves up to it. There were squibs bound into the sect as well and she could feel the magic flooding through them, the startling flood of emotion and shock that came with the temporary gift of magic.

'It shall be done. The family shall provide.' Gorlois bowed again once the last of the magic settled, then stepped back to clear the way to the staircase. Hermione led the way, feet bare against the freezing ground and Harry following silently after her. He'd gone very pale.

As they reached the surface, the family fanned out around them like an honour guard, swords and spears bared.

The walk to the ritual circle was interminable; their feet sank into the marshy ground, freezing mud squelching between their toes. Hermione's hair plastered against her skull and Harry's white shirt clung to his skin. Her hands were so numb by the time she reached the massive standing stones that she almost feared she wouldn't bleed when she cut herself. Harry shivered violently beside her, pressing inappropriately close in a desperate search for warmth. She responded, looping an arm around his waist. Noticing their discomfort, Mordred, Gorlois and Galanan, the most corporeal of her ancestors, shifted positions in the guard to shield them from the wind.

Unlike last time, the ancestors didn't follow her into the circle of stones. Instead, they circled around the outside, spreading themselves evenly around the space and facing outwards, weapons aloft.

Gorlois had lectured her at length about ritual protections and she immediately recognised that they wanted her to perform one before they begun, to keep them safe and uninterrupted until they'd finished the ritual inside the circle. She stepped through into the circle, climbing up onto the altar and helping Harry up with her.

She stepped up to the middle of the altar, raising her hands with the palms down. Ancient Pictish words rolled from her tongue, drawing magic from her fingers in coils of mauve mist, snaking through the rain to coil around the handles of the weapons that her family held aloft. The family magic offered itself eagerly, bolstering the strength of the enchantment as she struck downwards, body dropping and palms slapping into the stone altar. In perfect synchrony, her ancestors did the same, driving their weapons into the earth. Purple light flared as each weapon split the wet soil, racing out to form a circle that included every blade, then reaching upwards to dome over their heads. The rain and wind cut off abruptly.

The Gorlois family left their weapons, air shimmering purple behind them, stepping into the ritual circle. As they passed between the stones, flesh melted across their features. The skeletons became broad shouldered knights, the three sister's hair shone with rich colours. Mordred seemed to age, becoming taller and stronger, his hair falling a little longer and his eyes darkening. They bowed deeply to Hermione, then gathered behind her to face Harry. The boy swallowed nervously.

'The family is gathered.' Gorlois announced. Hermione beckoned to Harry and he visibly steeled himself, straightening his spine before bowing deeply.

'High Priestess Hermione Granger of Gorlois, I, Harry of House Potter, seek the protection and guidance of the Children of Gorlois. Should you take me in, I swear to be an asset to the name, to serve the High Priestess with blade and magic, to defend her honour and stand with her against her enemies.'

Hermione turned to her family, looking out over the many faces.

'Harry of House Potter would join us, to serve in our name. What say you?'

A roar met her words, unequivocally positive.

'Then so it shall be.' She cried. Gorlois stepped forwards, a savage stone knife in his hand. He sliced it across his palm and blood spilled from the wound and splashed across the altar. He passed the knife to Morgana, who bared her teeth and sliced open her own palm. Silver blood, like that of a unicorn, joined Gorlois'. The four sons of Morgause followed, bone dust spilling from their palms to muddy the glistening ghost blood. Galanan spilled earth, swirling shadow escaped Mordred's palm, turning the mixture a smokey grey. Every member of the family stepped forwards and spilled some form of essence on the altar, a blur of wild hair and high cheekbones. Then it was the end of the line and Hermione drew the blade across her own palm, bright crimson splashing across the stone.

She then passed the blade to Harry, who's hands shook slightly as he took it. He managed to make the cut, wincing as his hand slipped a little too deep, then opened his fingers to let his blood splatter across the stone.

'As our blood mixes here, let it flow in you. Become my brother in name and magic.' Mordred took the blade from her as she sent the family magic surging into the stained stone. It thrummed, soaking through the stone and dissolving the blood as it went, knitting it into a bond between itself, absorbing some of his golden glow and giving some of it's wildness in return.

'Esto Perpetua.' They murmured as the bond sealed.

For a moment, there was an almost reverent silence as the magic settled. Then her family were clapping Harry on the back with blows heavy enough to make him stumble, promising to teach him how to wield particular weapons and criticising his stature or challenging him to jousts. They parted for Hermione, allowing her to wrap her arms around him.

'Welcome to the family, brother.' Hermione grinned. Harry grinned back.

'Out the way you useless lumps of lard!' Mordred bellowed at his older brothers. 'Do you want them to freeze to death?'

There was a general round of laughter, then the crowd parted to let them through. Hermione took one last look her family, taking in their living faces in the knowledge that they would fade when they left the circle. Whatever enchantment had been placed on it wouldn't last. She looked a lot like Morgana; slightly softer featured and with lighter hair. Mordred was leaner than his brothers, again looking more like Morgana than his mother but there was something regal about his finer features that his brothers didn't possess. Igraine, tall and shapely and Gorlois, short and stocky with a bold bronze beard.

'You look like them.' Harry informed her. She smiled at him, then turned and left. Her ancestors followed, life spilling from their skin until only the undead remained.

'We need to get back to school.'

'You need to warm up.' Mordred corrected, 'Girtha has made you lunch, and she'd be terribly offended if you didn't stay for it.'

'Oh. What is it?' Hermione asked eagerly.

'Nettle Soup.' Mordred grinned at the delight that lit up Hermione's features.

'The one with the garlic?'

Mordred confirmed with a nod and Hermione bounced a step, dragging Harry behind her.

'Just wait until you try Girtha's cooking.' She promised. 'It's better than the Hogwarts elves.'