In the three years since Hermione's reappearance, Gellert had become used to the relatively frequent visitors to his cell; his warden bringing letters, various officials under the impression that he had some modicum of control over the witch, Anneken with official house business now that family assets were no longer frozen and Albus trying to coax any hint of the future from him.

If he hadn't been performing his morning meditations; reaching out with his magic and trying to recover some semblance of his wandless ability, he would have missed the latest visitor's approach.

He shifted to the window, spotting the almost invisible form making it's way up the snowy hillside astride a white hippogriff. A flowing white cloak draped so absolutely across the beast's flanks that there was no hope of it flying, even if it hadn't been one of the smaller, bulkier wild hippogriffs that weren't suitable for sustained flight with an adult. The person's magic was fiery, without the heat of Hermione's and with a heady hint of lingering dark magic. It felt vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place where he'd felt it before.

Once the person had disappeared into the lower levels of the building, Gellert took the opportunity to cast the wandless hygiene charms that he's been practicing - making a good impression was always important.

He was straightening the paper clippings of Hermione on the wall when the door finally swung open with a bang. A pair of aurors were the first through, taking up flanking positions on either side. Their presence meant that the guest was some kind of politician, without the duelling aptitude that allowed Albus and the warden to be alone with him.

Then came the guest.

It was a woman, roughly the same age as him. Her hair was shorn into a sheer bob that brought back memories of Scamander's irritating witch, except the colour was a crisp, arctic white that matched the cloak that she wore. Another guard hurried in with a chair, placing it behind the witch hastily as she reached up with white gloved fingers to unfasten the outer layer, handing it off to the same guard imperiously, without even looking at the man. Her eyes were fastened on him.

'Alice.' Gellert almost growled. She'd aged, not quite as well as Anneken, but better than Berg and certainly better than he had. Her face had hollowed out, eyes sinking above protruding cheekbones and a sharp nose that gave her an angular, bird-like appearance. A matching set of emerald jewels, bigger than his knuckles, hung from her ears and neck and a different but still complimentary matching jade brooch and belt sparkled even brighter than the silver embroidery on her dress. The traditionalists had always favoured a more reserved appearance - focusing on craftsmanship rather than impact, and shying away from gauche, gaudy jewels, bold embroidery and restrictive clothing. He wondered whether Alice's fashion choices were still the bold declaration of her allegiance, or had they become habit over the many decades since she'd first made that choice.

'How did you bring her back?' Alice spoke with barely any prelude. Her voice had developed a croaky roughness over time; a tremor that made her sound older than she was.

'I didn't.' Gellert drawled, lounging back against the window seat. It was icy cold, but it made him feel more her equal when he was seated as well. Her magic, like everyone in this day and age, was firmly bonded to her wand. The initiative that had once been there had been firmly quashed, leaving the flames dimmed despite the greater power that her age had brought.

Alice scoffed.

'Are you not still the Commandant of the International Auror Corps?' He asked. 'You know I've been here without visitors since nineteen-fifty.'

'It's MISC now.' Alice sniffed, 'and I know you couldn't have done it now. I want to know if you did this before? She didn't die, did she? You performed some dark magic on her and she disappeared.'

'No.'

'You'd have covered it up, of course. Like you covered up your mother's infirmity…'

'Mother was not infirm.' Gellert spat, jumping up from his seat. The aurors behind Alice's chair raised their wands warningly. He glared at them, but subsided. Alice looked amused.

'Oh, but she was.' Alice's lips split into a goading smile, baring a mouth full of pearly false teeth. 'And it was your fault.'

'It was the muggles.' Gellert denied instantly, furious. Alice had always had the ability to goad him to reckless emotion and it seemed she hadn't forgotten how.

'No, it was you. You and Hermione, with your inability to surrender. You killed your mother and you cursed your betrothed into the future. That's why you were so determined to remove her name from history - you thought you'd killed her.'

'You know nothing.' Gellert seethed, wishing he could throw a nice, dark curse at her. One that was painful and preferably fast acting.

'Oh, I know a lot.' Alice gloated.'I know that the British Ministry are even now working to discredit her. I know that Albus Dumbledore is already passing legislation through the wizengamot to further limit the old laws. I know that her legacy will be even less impressive than yours; perhaps she'll have the decency to die rather than surrendering. Either way, like you, she'll leave the old ways even more restricted and reviled than when she started her campaign.'

'No.' He managed to say. 'Now, you are the one clinging to an old ideology. You are so afraid of the old ways that you'd rather have another war than allow people to observe them.'

Because Hermione was nothing like him; she would fulfil the family duty to protect without discrimination, without asking for anything in return. She would allow people to believe in whatever they wanted, so long as they gave everyone else the same respect, and would merely prove to them all why her own methods were the best. She would succeed where they had all failed.

'I believe in democracy. Your betrothed would make herself a dictator; she would have herself sit on her ancestral throne.' Alice leaned forwards in her chair. It would have been intimidating if she didn't look so withered. He suppressed a bark of mad laughter, wondering what the auror guards thought of the scene; two decrepit, withered forces, facing off like two old, wild dogs.

'No…' Gellert couldn't help the smile that curled up at the corner of his lips as he noticed the way the fabric stretched over the knuckles of her good hand. 'You're afraid. Because Hermione has told her side of the story somehow, and she's a hero. People like her. You're afraid that they'll learn the truth about what you did to your parents, and all your nasty little deceptions in the war.'

Alice's face contorted and Gellert knew that he'd hit upon the truth.

'They won't believe her.' The head of security hissed. 'I have allies and power…'

'But so does she.' Gellert cut her off gleefully. 'You can't stop it. You'll finally get your comeuppance.'

Alice's features contorted, then smoothed as she imperiously tipped her nose up.

'Watch me.' The elderly witch hissed. She stood, holding her hand out imperiously to the guard that had taken her cloak.

'Double the guard on him. No visitors, no post.' She ordered.

'But mi'lady-' The guard protested, glancing at Gellert.

'It is a matter of international security. Hermione Gorlois is planning to break him out, and I will not see it happen. Understand? No letters, no contact with the outside world. I want anyone who argues to be sent directly to me.'

Gellert watched in disbelief as the witch pulled herself up to loom over the guard. She had no legal right to do as she was, not unless the laws had significantly changed since Gellert was free. But it would take months to get any kind of counter order through the courts, particularly with Albus as Supreme Mugwump. The witch turned back with an expression that could only be described as smug, then swept out the door.

Gellert was left alone in his cell, wondering whether he'd made the situation worse.