I apologise for the long wait on the last two chapters, this chapter contains something that I really wanted to do justice to, but I couldn't get it to come out right. They've also finally let us out of our houses, so I won't lie, I've been taking advantage of the summer sunshine before it gets too obnoxiously hot here.
I hope you enjoy the chapter and I'll do my best to not take as long with the next one.
Gellert twisted experimentally, straining against the stiff fabric of the vest. He tried lifting a leg, concluding that he wouldn't be riding any time soon.
'You look ridiculous.' Berg informed him blithely, glancing up from his book.
'I know.' Gellert moaned, glancing over at the mirror again. He'd chosen black for the ridiculous jacket but for appearance sake, he'd had to allow for an intricate silver brocade. It pinched in uncomfortably at his waist and puffed up so widely around his shoulders that he worried he'd look like an ogre if he wore a cloak. The creamy white britches were just as tight and uncomfortable as he'd always imagined them when he'd seen other students wearing them. Beastie forced his chin up, fluffing the bow tie that tickled his chin and making sure that the stiff collar was arranged just so.
Then, as if the whole experience wasn't humiliating enough, it turned out that progressionist fashion actually included glamours for the men as well. He'd always thought the oddly pale skin and red lips was a product of being strangled to death by one's clothing, or because for some reason progressionists seemed to think going outside was distasteful. Of course, because he was still underage, which was something else that apparently progressionists cared about, he couldn't just use a spell, so he had to use cosmetic potions. They tasted bitter against his lips and it took Beastie a long time to apply them with his steady hands, perched on a stool with his face inches away from Gellert's.
'Young Master is ready.' Beastie announced, passing him a tall top hat which Gellert balanced on his head. He had to do a silly little squat to get through the doorway without knocking it off, a move that was made more difficult by the constrictive clothing.
'This is absurd.' Gellert announced.
'That's the point.' Berg drawled, following him out into the warm summer evening. 'By wearing such impractical clothing, you're showing off how wealthy you are because you'd never be able to work in it. It's also meant to give the idle upperclass man a figure that apparently women like.'
'It's still ridiculous.' Gellert complained. The crests had been hidden, leaving a plain black carriage but the two glossy, premium sleipnir that pulled it were a clear sign of wealth and affluence. Mindful of his stupid white trousers and the dirt, Gellert moved over to inspect an unusual piece of harness that he didn't think he'd ever seen before. It ran up from the bit on either side, meeting on the forehead and passing between the ears before running as a taught strip of leather to the harness.
'A bearing rein.' Hermione breathed. He twisted, almost slipping over in his gleaming dress shoes and found himself breathless, not because of his own tightly laced waist but because Hermione looked like a vision. Her hair had been tamed into an elaborate pile of glossy braids, spiked through by little bejewelled butterflies which sparkled as brightly as her eyes. Her usually tanned skin had been hidden beneath white cosmetics, but the elves had been careful to brush her cheeks a rosy pink and the corset did something to her chest which made it difficult to tear his eyes away.
'You look spectacular, Hermione.' Gellert informed her with a bow. Hermione, however, was busy instructing the elves to loosen the offending piece of tack and completely ignored Gellert's compliment.
'I know that it is fashionable among the revolutionaries but I will not have these animals tortured for appearances. Let them bring their heads down to a reasonable level. I'd do it myself if I could lift my arm above my chest in this ridiculous dress.' The elves obeyed and once the strap was loosened, Gellert realised that he did recognise it. It was used to stop a harness horse putting his head so low that the bridle caught on another part of the harness and he had to agree with Hermione that tightening it to force such an unnatural posture was cruel.
He helped Hermione into the carriage, then was forced to sit opposite her as she took up the entire bench with her skirts. They were already moving by the time she finished settling herself in such a way that none of the fabric creased.
'You look spectacular.' Gellert tried again when she finally became still. She beamed at him.
'Thank Circe. At least the discomfort is worth something then.'
'It's awful isn't it!' Gellert commiserated, plucking at his obnoxiously tight collar.
'Awful! At least you don't have to wear a corset!'
'I do!' Gellert prodded at his waist, his finger hitting the stiff fabric of the undergarment. Hermione's eye widened, then she burst into snickers.
They sat in companionable silence as the carriage passed through the portal and emerged into the rolling countryside of southern Germany. Sleipnir moved faster than mortal horses, so it was almost impossible to catch more than the distant landscape and trying made his head ache. Hermione must have felt the same because she whipped her curtain shut.
'So are you going to tell me what we're going to see?' Hermione asked impatiently. For a moment, Gellert weighed up not telling her and letting it be a surprise. Then he decided that it would make good conversation for the trip and the merits of telling her outweighed not telling her.
'We're going to see The Wayward Sisters. It's a magical about three sisters who trick a muggle hero into killing his king.'
'A magical.' Hermione breathed, eyes alight.
'Frau Fleiss's sponsor family owns the theatre.' Gellert explained, 'they're progressionist obviously, but because Frau Fleiss is part of the coven they're neutral when it comes to the war. We'll be safe.'
'Oh, I know. I've wanted to see a magical for years though.' His witch enthused. Gellert was aware; she'd learned about them when she'd seen a seventh year student trying to practice at Durmstrang and had subsequently consumed every book on the subject in every library she had access to but because of the security concerns Gellert hadn't been able to take her.
He was more than happy to let Hermione tell him everything she'd learned about magicals in her research, filling the time until the carriage drew to a halt in a large courtyard. Instantly, uniformed staff were there to open the door and help both him and Hermione out, bowing and scraping deeply. The sun had only just set, leaving the sky a deep velvet blue and and silhouetting the theatre in front of the them. A whole brigade of carriages were parked up already, beasts snoozing in their harnesses and a handful more glowed along the driveway like little fireflies.
A thick carpet led into the theatre where the audience were gathering beneath the golden glow of chandeliers, sipping on drinks and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres. Most were adults, leaving Hermione and Gellert as the odd ones out and they quickly discovered why as they overheard the disapproving muttering of one of the elderly guests when they went for the drinks.
'Unchaperoned, how inappropriate.' She complained, loud enough for her voice to carry and attract the attention of several other guests.
'He's my brother.' Hermione sniffed in reply, tossing her perfectly coiffed hair and turning her nose up high enough to match the woman, who'd gone red beneath her glamour. Gellert hid his grin as Hermione loudly remarked to him on how rude people were these days.
It was more than a little surreal to blend into the crowd. He could count the times that he'd gone out in general society, and he'd always been resplendent in the Grindelwald crest to ensure that he was recognised and the plain clothing of traditional society meant that he was easily recognisable even to those who'd only seen him once or twice. With their faces painted over with potions, dressed in ridiculous outfits and among those who were unlikely to have really seen them, he was anonymous. Nobody nodded respectfully - although considering the affiliation of the crowd, they probably wouldn't even if they did know who he was.
Predicting that they's have nobody to talk to, Gellert had timed them to arrive only minutes before they were to be called into the box. They were summoned in by a bell, the crowd as a whole beginning a slow drift towards the archway. They were served by a wizard; a display of opulence that was entirely unnecessary, who led them to the box that they had tickets for. It was front and centre, at about head height; easily the best seats in the room. A couple of other boxes surrounded them, but most of the theatre was taken up by open seating that was rapidly filling up with those who couldn't afford a box - they'd been allowed in through a different reception room in the back, travelling by floo.
'Oh, this is ridiculous.' Hermione huffed and Gellert glanced over to see her trying to sit without creasing her skirts.
'May I assist?' He asked courteously. Hermione grinned at him and fluffed some excess fabric in his direction. Between them, they managed to lift the correct parts and hold the rest of it flat to arrange her in her chair.
'Your mother said she had to practice to wear hers.' Hermione informed him as he settled into the seat beside her.
'Hers isn't even that ridiculous.' Gellert only knew that his mother wore the cage like contraption because she had occasionally ridden side saddle. Unlike Hermione, she didn't spend a day gallivanting about the island in it, wielding a sword after Mordred for some petty sleight. The elves had been mortified. Berg and Gellert had placed bets on whether the garment would still be functional by time she was actually meant to get dressed.
'Shh! They're starting.' Hermione scraped her chair forwards until she was right up against the railing. Mercifully, the noise was concealed by the applause as four performers walked onto the stage. They were all dressed in old fashioned, Druidic style black robes with deep hoods and long sleeves that made them almost invisible against the pitch black stage. The four artists formed a ring in the middle of the stage, pulling out their wands and touching them together in the centre. A pale silver glow lit up the tips as they touched and the mages began stepping backwards.
'They're creating a space called a canvas. Technically it's a ward, to stop the ambient magic of the audience from interfering...' Hermione whispered. Gellert glanced at her, wondering if she'd talk the whole way through the magical.
On the stage, the four performers reached the corners and sat, legs crossed and wands raised. The glowing blue lines of the canvas connected each wand tip, remaining in place as they each put the hilt of their wand into a candlestick shaped holder.
The lights lowered, leaving the glowing square as the only thing visible in the room. Then the orchestra struck up a loud, drumming tune. Like a war cry, one of the performer's voice rang out, joined quickly by the others in an unmistakable tempo. Inside the canvas, crimson light flared to life, swirling for a second before solidifying into the flaming torches of shadowy marchers, muggles by their pitchforks. Within seconds, Gellert's heart was pounding as the magical apparition sent flickers of bloody light around the room. A house appeared, the muggles milling around it in a swarm of dark shapes. Then the adrenaline filled tempo took on a darker note. At the very corner of the canvas, a dark shadow formed, large an ominous. Gellert found his breath catching as a mounted figure appeared. His steed was huge and black, eyes aflame like a torch and astride was a wicked knight, holding the brightest torch. As the tone crescendoed, the rider moved forwards, the shadowy muggles disappeared until it was just the rider and the cottage.
Then a single, clear voice cut through the ominous sound and the door of the hut opened, a silvery figure stepping through. The sweet tone of the music conveyed her beauty and innocence, blue robes flowing around her feet and silvery hair water falling down her back as she fell at the knees of the knight.
For a moment the two tones clashed, dancing in the air, then the woman seemed to crumple before the knight. There was a crash of sound as the knight threw his torch at the cottage and the crystalline voice became an unearthly cry as fire exploded from the cottage. The knight turned and galloped away, the evil chanting of his presence fading as the woman's voice took on a desperate tone. Her silvery form tugged at the door and darted around the windows, the pace of the violins setting his heart racing.
Then, just when he couldn't take it any longer, the door flew open and the desperation changed to relief as two more silvery women appeared from the house, embracing the third who had been outside. Hermione's hand relaxed around his, and Gellert realised he hadn't even felt her grab it.
On the stage, the three silver women were now looking at their burning house and the music changed to become mournful as the fire burned out and became silver smoke. The three women wandered through the smoke, which swirled around their ankles as the music sang their sorrow.
Then, like a golden light, a new figure appeared in the smoke, dispelling the darkness. He was golden bright, the music that accompanied him was bright and hopeful, like flowers dancing in a summer breeze. After the pounding fear of the last scene, it was a glorious relief. The three women danced around the man, their feet pattering to the light tinkling of a piano. The scene change, the music growing warm and soft as they seemed to settle down together.
Then, haunting and chilly, with an ominous tone, another figure appeared. She was talk and dark, except for the glittering crown on her brow. With a jarring screech, the golden man was torn away from the three silver figures, taking the queen's arm and disappearing with him in a splash of darkness. Like insidious smoke, the darkness swirled around the canvas, creeping up the three silvery figures and tainting them, dragging the willowy forms into hunched crones. Jarring, clashing notes conjured a cauldron between them which billowed with green clouds of smoke. Above the witches heads, the green smoke swirled to form the figure of the golden man as the silver queen placed a massive crown on his head, and then he embraced the dark knight from the first scene, as muggles worshipped them. The music became more and more choppy, the crones dancing around the cauldron as they were whipped into a frenzy. Drums banged and crashed and Gellert almost felt like jumping up to shout along with the music, then it all fell still. The three witches on the canvas froze, one raised a finger and a single, sly voice wove through the room, unaccompanied by any instrument. Slowly, the others wove back in, fleshing out the sinister song. Fog swirled up around their feet, cloaking them in mystery as they joined together on the one side of the canvas.
The dark knight appeared, his tempo subdued by mystery as he approached the witches. Insidious chanting conjured a crimson smoke in their hands, reminiscent of the torches of the first scene, which wound into the form of the knight, crowned in gold.
With one last ominous draw of bow against strings, the three witches faded away, leaving the knight and his crimson apparition. There was a drum roll, then he too faded away.
There was a moment of silence, then suddenly the canvas light faded and the candles that lit the room reappeared to reveal the four performers standing in the middle of the stage.
'Oh.' Hermione leaned back with a shaky sigh. 'It's the interlude.'
Gellert glanced at her as the performers bowed and made their way off the stage.
'I didn't think it would be so intense.' Gellert admitted, tapping at his chest.
'Oh. The Wayward Sisters is a famous tragedy.' Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. 'They're doing a spectacular job; apparently that bit with the muggle coronation in the mist is almost impossible to do well. Most groups just don't bother with it, but it's essential to the play.'
Gellert stood, offering his arm to Hermione. She took it, allowing him to help her to her feet. They took a moment to fix each other's costumes, then he led her out of their box and into the main atrium. A lavish table of delicate little morsels of food had been laid out. Hermione angled them towards it immediately, peering at the little quiches and lettuce leaves folded to look like swans with their wings full of fluffy grain salad. Copying all of the couples around him, Gellert snagged a plate and began filling it with one of everything that Hermione glanced at for more than a second, passing it to her once it was full before going back to get his own.
It was as he was making his way back to her that he saw it - at the drinks table, serving a sparking glass of white wine to a lady in a rose dress.
'Hermione!' Gellert called, drawing the attention of everyone in the room as a sudden hush fell. She frowned at him in annoyance, glancing around at the appalled attention that he had attracted as she lowered the little quiche back to the plate. She hadn't taken a bite. Gellert didn't have his wand - there was no space for it in the stupid outfit he wore, so Hermione carried it hidden in her skirts with her own. They'd never considered that they may be separated if a threat presented itself. He played up the part of the oblivious and poorly mannered boy. 'What would you like to drink?'
As he'd hoped, her eyes flickered unintentionally to the drinks table before returning to him. Then she seemed to realise just what she was seeing.
She didn't go for her wand.
Food flew across the room as she hurled her plate like a discus, half formed magic burning like blue fire along it's edges and guiding it to strike true between the wide eyes of the elf. A moment later Gellert reached her, barging aside anyone in his way and only then did she go for their wands, pulling up her skirts and whipping both our from thigh holsters.
Several people screamed, a wizard who'd received a face full of caviar made an incoherent cry of fury and Hermione danced between them all to aim her wand squarely in the face of the knocked out elf. Gellert followed after her, waving his wand to cast restraining spells on the elf.
'Summon Mother.' Gellert grunted, focusing on his work.
'Summon Lady Grindelwald.' Hermione barked at the closest stunned guest. 'Now!' She snapped when no one moved. One of the adults hastily hurried from the room. There were several long minutes of silence where nobody dared move. Gellert finished his enchantments, Hermione used her patented Gorlois scowl to glare down anyone who might consider moving an inch.
'What's going on here?' A rotund man bustled in from a the same door than the adult had disappeared through earlier. His large moustache twitched in annoyance.
'Coven business.' Hermione virtually growled. 'Are you the owner?'
'The manager.' The man had gone very pale and Gellert wondered if he'd recognised them. It was much harder not to when Hermione was somehow looking like a warrior goddess in her gown and had somehow wandlessly and wordlessly turned her dinner plate into a projectile weapon.
'Well, perhaps you should stay.' Gellert's purr left little room for argument and a moment later his mother swept into the room through the same doorway.
'What is going on?' She virtually hissed. The guests seemed to shrink away from her as a collective.
'We've found the poison elf.' Gellert heaved the unconscious and magically bound creature up by the back of it's pillowcase so that his mother could see it. There was a brief moment where she presumably sifted through her memories to check, then her features darkened.
'So you have.' She agreed. 'You! The owner?'
'The manager.' The moustached man squeaked.
'Is this your elf?'
'I... I can't be sure. We have lots of elves.' The man stuttered beneath Lady Grindelwald's intense gaze.
'Stay here.' She ordered. Then she turned to her two charges. 'It seems the two of you can't even manage a single night at a magical without drama finding you.'
'Really, what trouble have those two found now?' Frau Lintzen bustled through the doorway, still brushing soot off her cloak.
'Did either of you eat anything?' Lady Grindelwald asked firmly. Gellert glanced at Hermione, then shook his head.
'We had a drink earlier, before the first act, but nothing else.'
'Here.' Once more, Hermione reached under her skirt and a moment later she had retrieved two bezoars from somewhere within the layers. She handed one to Gellert who had to force himself to ignore how it was still warm from being against her skin as he swallowed it down. His mother nodded to her approvingly, and Gellert wished there was some way he could have put something into his outfit to help - maybe he could have disguised a sword as a cane... or perhaps his wand as a cane. It was an idea worth pursuing.
His mother seemed to decide that her two charges were as safe as could be managed and bend down to inspect the elf, waving her wand over the slowly bleeding injury between it's eyes.
'What did you do to it?' The High Witch finally asked and Hermione shrugged.
'I'm not sure.' She replied casually, as if purely intent based magic was a minor feat. His mother huffed, but Gellert spied a hint of a smile on her lips.
'Well, whatever you did, I can't revive it with simple magic. We'll have to wait until it comes around naturally.'
'I dare say I can look after it. The elves that were confunded to poison our High Priestess would take great pleasure in making sure no elf magic works in Fort Stark's dungeons.' Herr Lintzen bared his teeth at the unconscious elf.
'Thank you, Thor. If you could send for the aurors when you get home. Perhaps a night in the ministry cells will refresh this man's memory.'
'I'll have them arrest the owners too, and I'll speak to Arika's guardians. I doubt they would betray her, but they might have seen something.' Herr Lintzen used one large hand to scoop up the elf by the scruff of it's pillowcase, much as Gellert had done earlier, and stomped out of the room. His wife almost followed, then hesitated.
'I'll take these two home, Anneken can keep an eye on them to make sure there was nothing in those drinks.' Frau Lintzen offered. Lady Grindelwald nodded in agreement and Gellert took Hermione's arm, leading her out of the room and into the darker corridor. It was clearly a servant corridor, the gold filigree and finery quickly giving way to plain stone. Then, just as quickly it reverted to plan wooden panelling. It wasn't the obscene grandeur of the foyer that they'd left, but Gellert found it far more appealing.
The rear foyer was filled with a far larger crowd, pressed close together and muttering, undoubtedly spreading rumours about what had brought three members of the coven through in such a rush. The whispers only grew louder as they reappeared, the two children stepping trough the floo to Fort Stark.
It was only when they arrived in the large stone reception room that Hermione sighed sadly, sagging against her corset.
'I really wanted to see the end. That was incredible.'
'You know what happens?' Gellert suggested hopefully. He too was incredibly disappointed, but more because he'd wanted to take her somewhere without the drama of their lives interrupting.
'Of course, but it's different to read the storyline than it is to see it actually being cast, with the enchantments put to music too!' She shook her head sorrowfully.
'We'll go again, when this is over.' Gellert decided. Oddly, that didn't seem to cheer her up at all. If anything, she became even more morose. Then, like an angel, Anneken appeared through the doorway.
'Next time...' Anneken announced, 'we're going to split the cost of hiring a quartet to perform for us in private. I'm sure, between all four of us, we can manage to find that much in our trust vaults. Who knows, maybe my parents would want to join in too, and then you wouldn't even have to wear such a stupid outfit.'
'I don't know.' Hermione smiled coyly, an expression that Gellert had only ever seen on Anneken's face when she was about to cause trouble. 'Gellert's been rather distracted by this corset all evening. It might be worth the effort...'
Gellert was suddenly glad for all the cosmetic potions on his face that disguised the sudden flaming of his cheeks. Unfortunately, there was nothing potions could do to fix the way he spluttered and was unable to deny it.
'Hermione!' Anneken chided, before her grin turned just as wicked as Hermione's. Gellert was filled with a deep sense of foreboding. 'We're going to my rooms. I do believe I have some matters to discuss with a fellow witch. Gellert, you'll find Andon in the library.'
The two witches headed off into the castle, leaving Gellert staring at their backs. He shook his head, then turned to head up to the library and whatever subject Andon had decided to study that day. At least Hermione would be having a good end to her evening.