The time had flown by without the diverse antics of Hermione or the seasonal rituals to segment it. Although it seemed like it was passing at a leisurely pace in the moment, when he looked back on the term, it seemed like a blur of classes, homework and leading his new group in their education. He couldn't have picked an individual day if his life depended on it.

So it was odd to realise that it was more than half way through November. Both Samhain and Harvest hadn't taken place, which was unsurprising. It would have been very conspicuous if either the coven members or their children were missing, and which the number of rituals missed over the past couple of years, two more missed weren't that notable.

The frosty silence between Gellert and the others hadn't be breached once… until that seemingly random Saturday afternoon.

It was late in the year for such beautiful weather. The sky was a cloudless blue and the sun still had just enough height at midday to bathe the grounds in warm golden light. He'd taken Kelpie for a leisurely swim in the fjord, then settled on one of the rocky slopes above the castle on a conjured blanket. The rest of his new group had migrated to the same slab of rock over the next half hour. Some rode, most climbed on foot or rode brooms. He was one of the few that had been allowed to drop basic spellcasting, and so he was one of the few that didn't have the gnarly three page essay on banishing charms to complete. He continued with his research into the Deathly Hallows, listening absently to the discussion of his allies as he worked and occasionally making suggestions or corrections.

It still took him a moment to recognise the vaguely hostile muttering that swelled through his gathered peers. Confused, he glanced up and quickly recognised Berg's familiar brown hippogriff picking it's way up the hill.

The anti-coven sentiment among his new group of followers was an unexpected evolution of the dissatisfaction with the passive response to the revolution. He suspected that opinion had been brewing for a while, and he'd just provided a rallying point. Already, the group were calling the coven, the coven children and their close allies "passive traditionalists" and classifying themselves as "active traditionalists".

Berg reined in a polite distance away, dismounting and crossing the remaining distance on foot. Gellert spotted several students palming their wands. He made a quick gesture for them to put them away - he was confident in his own ability to cast a wandless shield charm over all of them that could deflect anything Berg could muster in their direction.

The younger boy paused, again at a perfectly polite distance so that he didn't loom over their lounging positions.

'Could I speak to you for a moment, Gellert?' Berg asked. Gellert gestured for him to go ahead, despite knowing that the request meant Berg wanted to talk alone. Berg didn't rise to the bait, lifting an eyebrow and shifting his weight as if he were prepared to wait. Gellert heaved a sigh, carefully marking his spot in his books with a scrap of parchment and packing them away safely. It wouldn't do to disrespect the volumes his followers had leant to him.

Berg waited with irritating patience and eventually Gellert could delay no longer. He mounted up onto Kelpie, riding his beast past Berg and his hippogriff, forcing the other boy to hurry to catch up.

'So?' He demanded, after Berg had ridden beside him in silence for almost five minutes.

'Hermione thought you might appreciate an update.' His ward brother finally announced. Gellert's lip curled derisively as he ruthlessly crushed the small part of him that did want to know how his mother and his witch were getting along in his absence. It was the same, traitorous part that longed to return to them- Elder Wand and pride be damned.

'I imagine I'll receive one whether I want it or not, or she would have just sent an owl.' He replied dryly, not a hint of his true turmoil in his voice.

'Something like that.' His brother acknowledged. 'Your mother is not well.'

Again, Gellert was forced to viciously crush his concern. His mother had sided against him on the most important matter. She hadn't even listened to his point of view on the wand. She clearly didn't care for him, so he hated himself for caring for her.

If Berg was disappointed by the lack of reaction, he didn't show it. He seemed so much softer than both Hermione and himself, it was easy to forget that he too was a scion of an ancient house.

'It seems that a number of potions, healing spells and artefacts do not work on those without magic as they do on those with it. The strengthening effect of the Gorlois staff seems to have suffered worst, and her bones have become almost as brittle as they were after the fire at Blau Berg. She sustained a femoral fracture during the altercation in the lighthouse.'

'Can't you heal it?' Gellert asked sharply. Broken bones were hardly worth wasting breath to report on; he'd been healing his own broken bones for years.

'No.' Berg's simple answer caught Gellert by surprise, and he twisted in the saddle to look at the younger boy before he could stop himself.

'What?'

'Healing with magic is complex. If you broke your wrist, I couldn't just magically fix the bones - your magic would recognise the foreign influence and fight me. Healing spells have to coax the patient's own magic into fixing the damage. A true healer might know more forceful magic, but we cannot bring in a healer without exposing the lack of magic.'

'And potions?' Gellert couldn't help the flicker of interest. He'd never been interested in healing, so the information that was being shared was all new to him.

'Some work.' Berg shrugged, 'but others do not. The non-magical physiology reacts differently to certain ingredients; angel's trumpet, dragon liver and fire seeds, just for a start. Using any potions is a risk; I'd be as likely to poison her as help her. A proper healer would probably know which can be used, or know a way to test them. Luckily, your mother's fracture is simple and closed. It should heal the muggle way without complications. For now, she is resting and Hermione is running the family affairs again.'

'Has Hermione left Hogwarts?' Gellert couldn't help but ask. Berg paused, cocking his head to one side as he considered.

'I don't know.' The Tunninger heir admitted. 'She hasn't said as much, but she's running the coven, the family affairs, brewing polyjuice, training with Gorlois and Mordred and still working on that alchemy project with Flamel. I suspect she hasn't actually been back to Hogwarts since she spent that term here during third year.'

'So she dropped out of school half way through her second year?' Gellert raised an eyebrow sceptically.

'Maybe?' Berg didn't seem concerned by how unfair that was. Gellert could admit that Hermione was a very advanced student, but so was Gellert. There was no reason why his mother would permit Hermione to drop out of school that young yet force Gellert to continue to attend in fifth year. Unless one factored in the increasingly blatant favouritism.

He almost said as much, then decided that it wasn't worth wasting his breath.

'Is there anything else?' He changed the subject before he could think too much more into the injustices of his mother's treatment. Berg pursed his lips at the suddenly business-like tone.

'Just that Hermione is worried about you.'

Gellert scoffed. If Hermione was truly worried about him, she could apologise, return the wand and he'd be back home in a blink. But he was almost glad for the distance; he could see all the flaws in the old system, and how they had been exploited by the revolutionaries. He knew how to deal with both factions now, and it certainly wasn't by following his mother's leadership example.

'Come home, Gellert.' Berg didn't beg, but his tone was beseeching enough to be unbecoming. 'Can't you see what's happening here? You left home… you left Hermione… over a wand.'

'A wand?' Gellert barked a humourless laugh. 'No, the wand was just the symptom of far deeper issues. None of you listened to me, valued me! The locum patriarchy should be mine by right of birth, but I have been passed over for Hermione three times. When Hermione does well, you both worship the ground she walks on. When I beat her, it's because I cheated.'

'This is the problem.' Berg shook his head bitterly, reining in his hippogriff and forcing Gellert to stop and turn Kelpie back to face him. 'That wand is twisting your memories and destroying your reasoning. Yes, Hermione has been locum matriarch three times - the first time, we were stuck in the wilderness. The second time, you shared the role and now you've left us, so of course you're not locum patriarch. It isn't favouritism. We don't worship Hermione - she's a powerful and brilliant witch, but you're just as good a wizard. Hermione is flashy and good at witchcraft, but you've seen her trying to use sorcery… she's lucky if the only errant magic is a colour change.'

'If it was the wand twisting my thoughts, I'd have changed my mind by now.' Gellert scoffed. 'Clearly my feelings are less superficial than you all thought; but Circe forbid you believe that I might actually have different views.'

'Dark influences can take years to fade without a solstice ritual.' Berg pointed out with infuriating calmness. Gellert huffed irritably, slashing a hand through the air to demonstrate that he was done with the conversation. Berg didn't understand that Gellert was not being influenced; he'd seen his father's progression into darkness in his diaries, and Gellert was not foolish enough to follow in his footsteps. He wasn't stupid enough to use dark magic.

He flicked Kelpie's reins a little harder than intended, the beast tossing his head in protest even as he wheeled on the spot and clambered back up the hill in a series of leaping bounds.