He woke with a pounding headache and a painful stiffness in his right shoulder. Immediately, he noticed that someone else was in the room with him; Hermione from the rustle of silk.

'You're awake.' She stated, perhaps noticing the soft groan that escaped his lips. 'You knocked your head on the desk when you went down. Berg had a look, and he thinks you'll be fine. Just a nasty headache.'

'You stunned me?' Gellert remembered. He frowned, then quickly stopped when it made electric pain race across his skull.

'You attacked your mother.'

'You raised your wand against me...' Gellert repeated, cracking open his eyes to fix her with an accusing stare.

'So you're going to forget that you raised your wand first?' Hermione challenged. Following her movements made his eyes ache. The reflection of the candle against the pale silk of her dress seemed far too bright.

'In defence. You attacked me.'

'Attacked you?' Hermione asked incredulously. 'I poked you. You shoved me into a desk.'

'You threatened me.'

'I did not!'

'You did! I could feel your magic - I could see it!'

'Fine, yes, my magic was a bit agitated. I didn't actually attack you.'

Gellert was willing to argue that the physical manifestation of her magical fire, dripping from her fingers and licking at her limbs and the spectral wind that tore at his magic and clothes was tantamount to a threat, but his head still ached and he really really wanted the glass of water on the bedside.

Slowly, he worked his way up from the pillows, until he was leant up against the headboard and could reach for the glass. It was refreshing and not so cold as to aggravate his already aching head. As he sipped it, he reached up with his stiff arm and touched the back of his head. It was tender and bruised, but he couldn't feel any broken skin.

'You've given the wand to Gregorovitch then?' He asked. Her lip curled before she could force her expression back under control.

'I have. Your mother took it from you, in an effort to break it's power - she has no magic to become the master. We checked, but it didn't respond to me. It's no more special than a Gregorovitch custom wand now.'

But Gellert knew that she was wrong. His mother might have lost her own magic but the elves still answered to her and the family magic hadn't awakened in him, which meant it was still linked to her. There was a chance... it was small, but a chance none the less, that the wand might have mistakenly recognised the family magic as his mother's. Because a muggle could hardly disarm a wizard!

Which meant that the wand still had its power, and that he could get it back.

He'd need to disarm his mother somehow, enough for the wand to recognise it, and he'd need to get the wand itself back without raising suspicion. If he used polyjuice, he could disguise himself as someone else and steal it. He could even try to frame Alice for it; he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

'What about my old wand?' He finally asked. He'd been carrying both, as per his failed plan to trick the witches into believe in that he'd stopped using the Elder Wand.

'You can have it back...' Hermione watched him as he returned the empty water glass to the stand. 'But Berg is going to examine you first. We want to make sure that whatever influence made you attack us is gone.'

'Influence?' Gellert repeated flatly.

'Yes, influence. Or are you saying you'd attack both your mother and myself of your own free will?'

'I didn't attack you.' He gritted. The water must have been laced with pain potion of some sort, because his headache was rapidly fading. He pushed himself the rest of the way up, leaning heavily on the bedside table as the remaining dizziness spiralled away.

'You pushed me. I could have killed myself if I'd hit that table.'

'Don't be stupid, you're not a muggle. You were conscious, so your magic would have protected you.' Gellert scoffed. He crossed to his dresser, rummaging through to find clean clothes and pulling out his old inherited wand at the same time, concealing it in the bundle as he made his way to the changing screen. It was a terrible fit by now - he'd grown and changed, and he'd become accustomed to the Elder Wand's perfection, but it was better than being unarmed against Hermione's suddenly combative and unpredictable attitude.

'You could have killed me! You stunned me, then let me hit my head. My magic wouldn't have protected me then.' He continued, calling over the screen as he switched his nightclothes for trousers.

'What about your mother?' Hermione demanded.

The door opened before he could reply, and a second later he heard Berg's deeper tones. His siblings conversed for a bit, too low for him to hear and he just knew that they were conspiring against him again.

'What?' He demanded, stepping out from behind the screen and fixing them both with a glower. It was easy, because he'd shot up over the summer and now loomed over both of them by almost a head. 'Planning to share?'

'Yes.' Berg did not rise to his anger, even though Hermione's eyes were wide with outrage again. It was starting to become rather typical and tiresome, he realised. She always got angry and upset when he didn't let her control him. When he beat her in a duel, she sulked and blamed the wand for weeks, when his mother was injured, she blamed the wand again, and now that he was finally standing up for himself, she was shouting at him. 'I was saying that you should still be in bed.'

'I'm fine.' He sneered.

'Well you shouldn't be.' Berg looked concerned, which only served to rankle Gellert further. Hermione hadn't been made to stay in bed when she was injured - after Livius Lucan, she'd been up first, after she'd been poisoned at the harvest ritual, she hadn't even been made to stay in bed for a day. After Russia, after being cursed through a portal, after accidentally performing an exorcism... she hadn't had to take a single day. It was clear, they thought he was weak... he'd show them just how strong he was.

He whipped out the old wand, waving it furiously over towards his trunk which shrunk so violently that it made a loud pop, the door blowing open to let in air to fill the void.

'I'm not staying here a moment longer.' He announced. 'I've had enough of you, with your coddling.' He jabbed a finger at Berg. 'You, with your perfect superiority.' He pointed at Hermione, his other hand summoning his shrunken trunk and shoving it into his pocket. 'And mother, with her self righteous rules.' He waved vaguely in the direction of the lighthouse.

'Gellert!' Berg tried to stop him, but the pain potion was working a treat. The eldest Grindelwald whipped open the door and stormed out into the evening twilight.

The island had a strange atmosphere - the wind always blew, cold from the long stretch of water and the sound of waved hitting rocks was constant, no matter how gentle the sea state. But the exposure somehow made it all the more beautiful; evening light filtered between the cottages, unobstructed by mountains or trees, lighting soft, neutral colours and reflecting brilliantly across the sea, like an dragon egg nestled in a burning hearth. Seabirds wheeled overhead, cries echoing loudly against the raw sound of the elements. In winter, massive waves crashed against the cliffs and threw spray up to be caught by the screaming wind, where it flashed in the beam of the lighthouse before lashing against the squat cottages. The wind howled unobstructed, tearing between the buildings that tremored with the force fo the furious sea.

Today, as if matching the mood of the family... or, Gellert thought resentfully, probably to match Hermione... the weather had answered her call before, but he apparently wasn't good enough for it, it was grey. The sun was setting behind thick, flat clouds, barely more than a paler patch among the darkening grey. Rain spattered across his skin, fine and cold yet heavy enough to stick his shirt sleeves to his arms in seconds.

He splashed to the stables, a surprising amount of water hidden in the fuzzy grass between houses. Still furious, he yanked open the door and stomped to Kelpie's stall. Katana poked his nose out curiously, but Gellert ignored him, snatching his harness from the hooks and tossing the saddle across Kelpie's back before he'd even woken up from his snooze. The beast grunted unhappily, regarding Gellert with mournful eyes that didn't suit his savage, piscine features.

'Gellert!' Hermione appeared in the doorway. Her dress was already ruined - silver silk plastered against petticoats and water running in streams from her sodden hair. Katana perked up at her arrival, letting out a squark which both Grindelwalds ignored. 'Gellert, please, just come back to bed. We can talk about this when you're better.'

'I am better.' Gellert snapped, yanking up on the girth with enough force to make Kelpie wheeze. Without a pause, he moved onto the bridle.

'No, you're not... can't you see...?'

'Shut up.' He spun, wand drawn and levelled at her. Kelpie tossed his head, startled by the sudden move. There was a massive bang and Katana rammed the door of his stall. Gellert didn't move his gaze from Hermione, who was staring at him with wide eyes. 'Shut up. You know nothing. You don't know me, you don't control me. I'm leaving.'

'Gellert, please!' She begged, trailing behind him as he snatched up the reins and hauled Kelpie out into the rain. Katana screeched behind them as his mistress left. He ignored her pleas, swinging up onto Kelpie's back.

'Gellert. We can talk, whatever... you don't have to stay in bed, we could go to the library, or to my room... or down to the cave.'

He ignored her, spurring Kelpie into a trot.

'Gellert!' Berg's voice didn't quite carry as well, then a moment later he could hear his mother shouting, although he could no longer hear exactly what she was saying.

'Gellert!' Hermione called out to him one last time. It was like he was specially turned to hear her; words carrying despite the distance of deadening, dampening rain between them. He glanced back one last time, Kelpie's rapid pace already carrying him clear of the settlement to see her stood in the middle of the track. Berg was at her shoulder; broad and roughly the same height. His mother leaned against her Gorlois-given staff, right behind the two wards. With their dark hair, they looked far more like family than he had ever done with his mother, and he knew that she would never have leaned up against him with the familiarity and ease she did against Hermione.

He scoffed, turning back to face forwards and spurring Kelpie into a canter.