Gellert had expected that after the joy of an in person visit with the larger part of Hermione's future coven, that he'd have to wait for at least a week before receiving any more letters or news. He was very surprised when the warden brought him a clipping from the daily prophet the day after; it seemed that Hermione had deliberately leaked Harry's adoption to the press. The piece was remarkably honest, which meant that his shadow still loomed.

'Are you angry?' The warden asked after he'd had a couple of moments to read.

'Angry?' Gellert asked, confused by the question and wondering just when he'd become familiar enough with his jailer for him to ask that kind of question.

'Your ward... betrothed... adopted someone into your family without permission?' The warden elaborated. Gellert shrugged.

'I have no influence over Gorlois matters.'

'But aren't you Hermione's guardian?' The warden asked. Gellert cocked his head, wondering what the warden meant.

'Yes, I am... but that doesn't make me a Gorlois, so unless Hermione gives me Locum Patriarchy, I have no influence. Taking Heir Potter as a ward is a good solution to a legal fight which probably wouldn't end in her favour, as well as offering Potter all the benefits of her family name.' He explained patiently.

The warden harrumphed and left, allowing Gellert to stick the newspaper article to his cell wall in collection with the others. Hermione spent so much time in the news that the protected space was beginning to fill up. He took down all of the letters, resolving to read them from the beginning again.

The next morning, the warden appeared again with another newspaper. It was colder than the day before, and his breath steamed on the air as he wheezed with exertion.

'What?' Gellert demanded, reaching for the paper urgently. The warden didn't even flinch, shoving it towards him breathlessly.

The front page was split, as though the publisher couldn't decide what was bigger news.

"Gorlois family challenged to ancient honour duel by Malfoy."

"Sirius Black found innocent, Peter Pettigrew to receive dementor's kiss."

"Youngest recipients of Order of Merlin, First Class - Hermione Gorlois, Harry Potter, Theodore Nott."

'She'll be furious that it's called the Order of Merlin.' Was the first thought to slip into his mind, and he couldn't help but voice it. He tore through the pages to the part on the honour duel, eyes scanning the text. He'd suspected that this Malfoy would eventually figure out how to challenge her, but he'd hoped that Hermione would be able to avoid three sleights long enough for her magic to mature. She was an immensely powerful witch, but a wixen's power increased as they aged, growing fastest during puberty. She was still a fraction of her true potential, and would have to use her sect's magic to match an adult wizard - he doubted she wanted to reveal that particular strength this early on in her modern schemes. Sects were still largely mythical, and Gellert only knew what he did because of what he'd seen Hermione do. Most who'd heard her title probably only had a vague impression of large, ancient rituals.

'You'll be duelling Malfoy.' The warden pointed out, sounding like his worst nightmares had come true. Gellert laughed bitterly.

'No. As I said yesterday, I'm not a Gorlois. If he'd challenged Hermione, I might have been able to step in because he's so much older but he's challenged the Gorlois family, so only a member of the Gorlois family can duel.'

'Oh.' The warden sounded relieved, but Gellert didn't care. Fury was bubbling up with helplessness in his gut and he forced it down ruthlessly before his magic could accidentally lash out and reveal the strength of the wandless magic that he'd been practicing.

'That snivelling coward.' Gellert hissed, striking at the stone floor with his fist. It hurt, and did nothing to help him feel better. 'He knows that she's going to be more influential than him, and he's going to strike whilst he knows he can still beat her.'

'So it has to be her or Potter that fights?' Flinch asked curiously. Gellert nodded, then hesitated.

'Unless... Mordred can.' A glow of hope kindled in his chest, calming the roiling fury in his gut.

'Mordred? As in Le Mort D'Arthur?' The warden sounded curious.

'The real Mordred.' Gellert confirmed. Mordred was a merciless offensive dueller, viciously fast with a devastating repertoire of offensive magic, but the modern formal duelling format was designed to take away the advantages of youth and force the duellers to display their casting ability. The Gorlois family had always been so magically dominant that they'd never bothered with magical shield charms, relying instead on warded clothing or even physical shields. It would be a close fight, but it was a far better match than Hermione-Malfoy. 'He's stuck in a sword - a similar story to the Arabic djinn wizards.'

'Interesting.' The warden said dismissively; he clearly didn't care how Mordred was alive and was more interested in such matters as; 'did he really serve King Arthur at the round table?'

'I haven't asked him.' Gellert admitted. 'But I assume so, I did gather the situation wasn't quite as glorious as the stories suggest... and he's the son of Morgause and King Lot, not Morgana and Arthur!' Gellert anticipated the next question quickly. For a moment, it looked like the warden might ask another question, then he seemed to think better of it and shut his mouth. A moment later he opened it again to suggest that Gellert must be proud of her for becoming one of the youngest ever recipients of the Order of Merlin.

'I believe Hermione has a genetic predisposition for tangling with danger. It was bound to happen soon enough.' Gellert scoffed.

'So you're not proud?' The warden confirmed, his eyebrow raised almost to his hairline.

'That she's been given an award for recklessly risking her life? No, I'm not. I'd rather she locked herself up in her castle and never did anything more dangerous that sharpen her quill, but she's not going to do that. Hermione will always fight for what she thinks is right and there will always be people who resent her power.'

'So you think it's inevitable.'

'Danger? Yes.' Gellert laughed, flicking through the paper to the page on Sirius Black's acquittal. Presumably, Hermione had, through a combination of impressive wealth, her well connected friends and the looming fear of Gellert's influence, managed to get the ministry at her beck and call. According to the paper, she'd managed to uncover Peter Pettigrew at dinner the night before (Rita Skeeter, the author, waxed poetic about how her faithful and obedient hound had pursued the criminal in a chase through the castle before cornering him in an abandoned corridor.)

'So? What are you going to do?' The warden finally demanded. Gellert glanced up at him.

'There isn't much I can do.' The prisoner finally answered, drumming his fingers against the stone floor and glaring up at the grey sky outside the window. 'Except hope that Hermione can fend for herself.'