'There is a reason most use wizardry, Hermione.' Lady Grindelwald sighed heavily, leaning over the prone elf on the slab. The dungeon cell that they were all huddled in was dark and gloomy, lit only by the witchlight in Lady Grindelwald's hand and the palm sized window up near the ceiling. Three days had passed since the elf had been brought into custody and it had yet to even stir and the questioning of the owners of the theatre had revealed nothing. It was frustrating, being so close to the answer, yet being so far at the same time.

'Because they can't use witchcraft.' Hermione shrugged.

'No!' Lady Grindelwald straightened sharply. 'That is not the only reason. Granted, many wixen lack the knowledge, but spells are not simple. That single word contains detailed guidance to your wand, which means that every iteration of a spell is the same.'

'Which makes it predictable, and easy to defend against.' Hermione agreed. His mother's eyes rolled skywards, and her next sigh was one of resignation.

'Is this your opinion also, Gellert?' His mother asked, and the Grindelwald heir got the distinct impression that the answer he was about to give was wrong. Unfortunately, he expected that if he answered any other way, he'd be asked to explain and the lie would be immediately discovered.

'Yes?'

His mother looked down at them for several long moments and Gellert had to remind himself that it was the ghoulish witchlight that made her so terrifying.

'Come, we have much to discuss.' His mother ordered. The duo hastily followed her out of the dungeon, up the tightly spiralling staircase and out into the foyer. Blinking in the sudden bright light, the two children shared a nervous look before scrambling to catch up with their mother as she held open the door to one of the studies.

Gellert slipped in beside Hermione, offering her the only chair on the near side of the desk and leaning against the backrest behind her. Despite the imminent prospect of his mother's fury, he observed that the new hairstyle that Hermione had chosen to wear that day made her neck look very elegant.

His mother sat at the desk opposite them, and there was a moment of silence as she looked them over, a very somber expression matching the stormy grey of her dress and the unusually cloudy sky outside the window behind her.

'I believe this is a failing on my part, to consider the impact that such violent events might have on your attitudes.' Lady Grindelwald began. If Hermione's sudden shift was anything to go by, she was a surprised as he was. 'You understand the difference between witchcraft and wizardry?'

'Of course.' Hermione replied quickly. 'Wizardry is the use of certain command words used by a wand to channel magic to achieve a result. Witchcraft is the channelling of magic by the wixen, to achieve a desired result.'

'Tell me the difference, without reciting it from a book.' His mother instructed. The young witch hesitated before replying slowly, clearly considering her words.

'Wizardry is used by those who don't know how to, or are unable to channel magic without a wand. It is limited by one's knowledge of command words, or spells, by the efficiency of the wand and how well it pairs with the user, as well as the power of the mage. Witchcraft is limited only by your imagination and ability to draw on and control the flow of magic.' There was a brief silence as his mother digested her ward's words and considered her response.

'Anything to add, Gellert?'

Immediately, his mind went blank as he scrambled to remember what Hermione had even said.

'No?' He finally replied, the word slipping out as a question.

'Very well.' His mother's look was cool. 'You are almost correct, Hermione. Wizardry is far more limited, however it is also safer and more predictable. A spell is a complex thing; we use a single word, but it dictates every aspect of the result and the wand channels the magic to make it happen as the command word - whether spoken or silent, dictates... every time. Witchcraft, we hold what we consider to be important variables in mind, and channel the magic to achieve those variables. Of course, the manifestation of your magic, the way it chooses to fulfil your intent and the subconscious variables you've selected all effect the end result. That means that no two pieces of witchcraft are ever the same... Hermione, conjure a vase. Just a vase, using witchcraft. Quick.'

Hermione jumped, but did as she was instructed. The vase appeared on the desk; about a foot tall, made of reasonably sturdy, white porcelain with a very flame design in blue in an almost Grecian style.

'Gellert. A vase like this, please.'

Gellert obeyed too. His vase ended up fractionally slimmer, the porcelain more delicate and with a darker shade of blue to flame design that was at least close enough to be recognisable. It was rather good, considering he'd had less than five seconds to observe and hadn't even touched the original.

'Another, Hermione. Exactly the same as your first.'

Hermione obeyed, seeming bemused by the odd instructions. Her vase appeared, and Gellert couldn't help but notice that the porcelain was thinner; more like the one he had conjured. The deign of the flames was closer, but still not identical.

'Now, watch this.' His mother pulled out her wand and used it to conjure three identical vases, each with an artistic, floral pattern. Then she gestured for the two of them to pull out their own wands and repeat the spell. Two more floral vases, identical to the one that his mother had conjured, joined the collection on the desk. 'So you see, wizardry creates the same results for everyone, every time... assuming the spell is performed correctly, of course. That earns that the spell can be reversed, even if there is not obvious counter charm, because we can study the spell net and create a counter spell.'

'And witchcraft doesn't.' Gellert realised. 'You'll never be able to create a counter spell, because the magic will be different every time you use it.'

'What?' Hermione asked sharply.

'Correct, Gellert.' His mother vanished all of the vases with a wave of her wand. 'The best you can do is hope the spell expires or try to untangle to spell net from their core - which is almost impossible.'

'Oh.' Hermione sagged in her seat, the perfect posture that had been trained into her collapsing. 'So the elf won't wake up?'

'Currently, it seems unlikely. Arika has not managed, and she is one of the best cursebreakers in the country. We cannot continue spelling potions into it forever. If the elf is not awake by the end of the month, it will have to be put down.'

'No!' Hermione cried, jumping forwards in her chair. Lady Grindelwald looked at her sternly. His witch was strong but Gellert could practically feel her crumbling, even if she'd been trained too well to let it show.

'Surely, there's something...' He tried, hands coming up to rest on Hermione's shoulders.

'I'll keep spelling the potions into it!' Hermione offered desperately.

'House elves cannot remain separated from their house for extended periods. The elf will not survive until Yule.' His mother countered and Hermione sagged.

'Let this be a lesson to you, to never cast a spell that you cannot undo. Your training so far has focused on wandless magic, as was the norm in the 6th century. It is high time we fixed that. You will both go to the library and find two dozen new offensive spells and their counter spells. I will be supervising your duelling practice from now on, and we will not be using duelling wards. You will have to fix all the damage to perform.'

Assuming they were dismissed when his mother uncapped her ink bottle and quill, Gellert bowed to his mother at the door; something he hadn't done in years - since Hermione arrived - and led his devastated witch from the room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, she threw herself into his arms, burying her face into his chest. He hugged her back, deciding not to comment on the way her shoulders shook and his shirt began to feel damp. Instead, he steered her down the corridor and into a large music room, sinking down onto the large, padded window seat without removing her from his side.

'We'll find a way to undo it, Hermione.' Gellert promised, when her sobs began to subside. Her tears were cool as they soaked through to his skin.

'How?' She wailed into his shirt.

'I don't know yet.' Gellert admitted, pulling away and gently pushing her chin up so that she was looking at him. He brushed strands of her hair away from her face, exposing wet eyes. 'But you're a Gorlois, the first High Priestess in centuries, the blood of legends, the most powerful witch of our age, and I'm Gellert Grindelwald, a born seer, owner of the elder wand and a very large library...'

Hermione rewarded his little joke with a watery smile.

'If anyone can figure it out, it's us. We're going to go to the library, like mother instructed, and you're going to find and learn those spells. I'm going to start researching curse breaking.'

'It's impossible, Gellert.' Hermione moaned.

'No it's not. You know what Mordred said; the only rules in magic are the ones you think there are. We can break this spell, and we will do it, and we will find out who has been attacking us.'

Hermione looked up at him as he spoke and he couldn't help but think about how pretty she looked, despite the tearful sheen in her eyes and the tear tracks still drying on her cheeks. He lifted a hand and wiped them dry with his thumbs, then tucked the escaping strands of hair back into her braided style, conjuring a couple of pins to hold them in place.

'Thank you.' She murmured, swiping at her own eyes with her hands. He dried his shirt with a wave of his hand.

'Anything, Hermione.' Gellert promised. 'Anything for you.'