Leaving school grounds was easy when one was not afraid of the forbidden forest. The school was not on lockdown, which meant that although one couldn't fly out by magical means it was a small thing to walk across the boundary. Hermione had Harry fly her to the edge of the grounds straight after lessons, to give her the longest possible time to return before anyone realised she was missing.

From there it was an hour hike across terrain that made Hermione glad for Gorlois' merciless fitness training, up to the peak that Scamander had suggested as their meeting point. It was hard going, the ground shifting from tangled snares of fallen trees and mossy boulders to marshy hassocks as she got higher, then sliding into sparse windswept grass and sharp, crumbling shale before she finally hauled herself up over the steep, crowning slab of stone and onto a plateaued summit.

Scamander was already waiting, legs folded beneath him, as he studied what appeared to be a pale pebble - conspicuously out of place on the exposed grey granite.

'A Peleboid.' Scamander informed her, without lifting his cheek from the ground. Hermione's eyebrow rose as he gently tapped the pebble with his wand and it suddenly sprouted crablike legs, scuttling away from Scamander and over into the looming shadow cast by the rock they stood on.

'Their ground shell is used in potions, is it not?' Hermione asked, glancing around them curiously. She couldn't see the beast that Scamander had brought, but she had no doubt that it would be interesting.

'Well yes. It has remarkable properties, but very difficult to grind.' Scamander cocked his head at her. 'That's quite a recent discovery…'

'A recent rediscovery, Mr Scamander. Goblins have used ground peleboid in their blade quenching potions for centuries.'

'Ah.' Scamander straightened up suddenly. 'Would you happen to know who the "immortal court" might refer to?'

'The immortal court?' Hermione echoed thoughtfully. Her mind flew straight back to the prophecy that Harry had heard Trelawney give at the the end of the last year, but it referred to the "blood of the immortal" rather than an immortal court, but she couldn't help but somehow think the two were related.

'The goblins have refused to meet with the Ministry - not unusual on it's own, of course. They've always made it as difficult as they can to meet, within the bounds of the treaty, but this time… usually they at least pretend to be cooperative, but they've told the ministry that they will no longer accept their stewardship, in favour of the representatives of the immortal court.'

'What?'

'Fortunately, the ministry have so far taken that to mean one of the ministry courts or councils. They're currently arguing which is the oldest and therefore most likely to be "immortal".'

'But you think it is someone else?' Hermione concluded.

'I thought it might be you… I feared that you might be intentionally inciting them to another rebellion.'

Hermione spluttered in surprise.

'I would never! The treatment of the goblins is appalling, but rebellion - the economic collapse would ruin families and the retaliation would decimate the goblin nations. They've barely recovered as it is!'

'Exactly! Do you not see, Miss Grindelwald, why people might believe that to be your intention?' She might have been offended by the question, were it not for the earnest concern in his expression. She raised an eyebrow as a silent prompt for him to continue. 'Its been done hundreds of times in muggle history - conflict or civil unrest, providing the perfect environment for a strong military leader to take command.'

'Like the Russian Revolution.' Hermione agreed, heart in throat.

'Yes… I suppose… according to your account.' Scamander agreed. 'I would suggest looking into the matter with some urgency.'

'Yes.' Hermione agreed faintly. There was a brief moment as Scamander observed her in the gathering dusk, then he harrumphed as if he'd found whatever it was that he was looking for in her, and held out his arm in a surprising traditional gesture.

'Hold on.' Scamander gave her barely a moment of warning before suddenly her magical core was brutally rent. Her scream of horror was ripped away as the air was torn from lungs, which followed into vapour a moment later. Tattered remains of her magic clung desperately to Scamander and he forged his way across a void of raw magic, then icy air hit her like a blow to the gut as they reformed. Like an elastic band drawn too tight and then snapping back, her magical core reformed around her, fractured and misshapen. Howling winds tore between candle-like flames, threatening to extinguish them whilst roaring bushfires threatened to whip up into firestorms, swirling power and magic shuddering through her body and escaping in wild tendrils that hissed and steamed in the wet air of the location Scamander had brought them to.

Apparition. She knew it, but last time she'd at least had one of Frau Hassel's potions to settle her magic after the traumatic experience.

Furious, she tore her hand free from Scamander, intending to express her fury, but her stomach gave out from both the brutal treatment and the unsettled reconstruction of her magic and she found herself stumbling to the closest hassock and emptying her afternoon tea into it.

A hand snapped out to prevent the magizoologist approaching, his feet squelching tellingly in Orkney's familiar marshy landscape. He would wait, and feel terrible, Hermione decided, until she'd had exactly as much time as she needed to attempt to resettle her magic. She was vaguely aware of the distinctive clatter of bone and metal that was her family guardians.

She'd learned the meditations early on in her childhood - simple ones with Lady Grindelwald, that allowed her magic to blossom and grow in an organic manner that allowed her to channel it with ease down her arms and through her fingers, without the use of a wand. Gorlois and Mordred had deepened that connection, turning her disorganised and untrained magic into a powerful, structured force that could be channeled by her body as well as with a wand.

Apparition worked by tearing one apart, then physically reforming them in the new location, rebuilding their magic and body from the raw materials in the new environment, tearing their consciousness through the ethereal plane against the flow of the natural magic. It was like smashing a pane of glass and then trying to rebuild it by tossing all the shards together and rolling them out flat. The cost of apparition was the sturdy magical structure needed for wandless magic.

Her thick travelling cloak was soaked through by the time she finally stood, magic repaired as best as she could in the short term. Scamander had been forced to his knees a short distance away, her guardians awaiting her recovery and judgement patiently with spears levelled in his direction.

'Do not ever use apparition on me again.' She spat furiously at Scamander, gratified to notice that he at least appeared appropriately remorseful, but unfortunately not at all afraid of the savage Pictish blades pointed at him. At least, she mused, the freshly frosted ground would be agonising on his aged knees.

'Forgive me, please. I did not expect such an adverse reaction… your betrothed seemed comfortable and capable with apparition.'

'Gellert was a fool that forsook his own magic in exchange for false power.' Hermione remembered the magic of his older self, barely beginning to bloom beyond the ageing and rigid iron cage of the elder wand's control, tendrils of power escaping from crumbling bars and reaching out like fresh buds reaching out from a scarred and burned tree.

Scamander looked at her a long moment, then breathed out heavily. Hermione waved to her guardians, who managed to convey a remarkable reluctance for skeletal figures as they withdrew their spears and stepped back. From a short distance away, another guardian led forwards Katana and a Granian with a flare of dusky speckles that often marred the bloodlines of inexperienced breeders. Hermione was willing to bet Scamander has rescued the marred steed from slaughter at some point in the past.

Still angry, Hermione didn't bother to wait for Scamander as she strode over to her beast, greeting him with a scratch in his two favourite spots and checking over his harness before mounting up. The magizoologist took a moment longer and now that she was higher, Hermione noticed his famous briefcase hung from the saddle.

They took off quickly, Hermione reaching out with her magic to feel the familiar, deep and ancient power of the leylines that ran beneath the portal, then orientating herself to follow the one she knew was bound for Durmstrang's portal. The ancient gate itself might have been destroyed, but the line was still there to follow.

It was brutally cold, but Hermione loved it none the less. Katana easily matched the Granian, soaring out across the sea; a moonlight reflecting in a sparkling spread below them, pinpricks of orange light marked the presence of ships - little darts in the printed satin of the distant waves. Over her head, the aurora borealis flared to life as the sun set, tracing lines of poison across Katana's gleaming scales. The stars glittered, familiar constellations staking their claim on the inky canvas, unobscured by land or artificial light. The beast beneath her surged with powerful and familiar motion, wind whistling past her ears and cutting sharply through her warming charms with brutal efficiency. She buried her hands in the warm silk of his mane, feeling the flex of his wing muscles and the warmth of his skin.

It felt like hours and and seconds at once when they finally reached the wild and craggy shores of Norway, dropping down into the deep shadows of the fjord to stay out of muggle sight. Water rose up to meet them, mirror smooth except for the disturbance of their passage. The dull thudding of leather wings echoed back off the mountains, muffled by crisp white snow and the dark spears of evergreen trees. The familiar lights of Durmstrang castle clung stubbornly to the steep grounds, unchanged through time.

They landed on the duelling beach, hooves crunching against frosted stones and beast breath steaming in the air. The two riders dismounted, shaking out stiff limbs and flexing the circulation back into their fingers.

'How to we do this?' Hermione asked as she run her hands over Kelpie's wing and shoulder joins to check for any inflammation caused by the longest ride since his return to her in the 20th century.

'I'm not quite sure.' Scamander admitted. 'Bonded creatures… they'll likely be able find one another, but I'm not sure how you'd ask them to do so… Merlin's beard!'

Both wixen jumped as Katana let out an ear-piercing, draconic screech which rolled and echoed around them, seeming to build in volume as it it reverberated across the water. On the mountain above them, lights flared to life along Durmstrang's sturdy walls.

'That was not subtle, Katana.' Hermione hissed, tugging on the reins to lead the moonlight-bright beast into the concealment of the deeply shadowed treeline. It took several second for the shouts of the castle inhabitants to reach them and the two waited, tense and nervous as the dark silhouettes of figures on brooms soared into view above them, patrolling out from the castle.

'Look!' Scamander hissed, jostling her with his elbow and pointed out over the fjord where a dark shape had split the water, a deep 'V' slicing out behind it as it made it's way towards them. Katana danced and tugged at the reins beside her, and Hermione hissed a quite command for silence. The beast subsided reluctantly, going still as he'd been trained to by Gorlois but Hermione could see how his muscles strained, ready to bolt towards the creature emerging from the water as soon as her command was relaxed.

Kelpie had changed even more than Katana had over time. His skin told the tale of his role protecting the mer village; scars that suggested battles against more than one fearsome water creature, including one that mirrored the vicious spell-scar that Katana had sustained at Livius Lucan's wand, carving across his face and narrowly missing his eye. He wore no harness, but sharp bones, shiny shells and bright disks of mer scales hand been braided into his mane, which flowed almost down to his knees and the tale that slithered like a wet train of silk behind him, decoration rattling against stone.

'Let him go.' Scamander instructed beneath his breath as Kelpie paused and turned his head, clearly surveying the shoreline. Hermione released her command for silence with another whispered Pictish word, and Katana shot towards his dark partner like a silver arrow from a bow.

There was a clatter of hooves and crunch of stone against stone, but mercifully both beasts were otherwise silent in their reunion, dancing around one another for a moment before they paused, Katana bowing his mighty, antlered head and allowing Kelpie to snort in his air, nostrils flared from their usual slits to take in as much scent as possible. Then after a couple of seconds of stillness, with a sharp movement, both beasts jerked up to look directly towards them through the trees. Scamander pushed her shoulder gently and Hermione cautiously emerged from the trees, noting the clear ring of white around Kelpies eyes as he took her in.

'Hello, Kelpie.' Hermione murmured, not daring to take her eyes off him and praying that none of the wixen on brooms would see them on the shore.

Cautiously, slowly, she reached a hand up, brushing her fingers against freezing wet hair before resting on his muscular, warm neck. Kelpie's snuffled at her hair, strands catching on jagged fangs and snapping free as the beast jerked his head up to look over her shoulder.

'Gellert isn't here.' Hermione informed him sadly, running a hand down his neck and to his shoulder, marvelling at how his coat had grown thicker and coarser to deal with the colder water. 'But Mr. Scamander is a friend. I need your help, and if you come with me, you'll see Gellert again. I'll get him out someday.'

She ignored the sharp look that Scamander sent her, continuing to sooth Kelpie as Scamander readied his suitcase, then taking up Kelpie's reins and leading him right up to the case. Kelpie followed, watching as Katana placed his front hooves in the case, then was sucked down in a swirl of white and silver moonlight. For a moment, Kelpie hesitated, glancing back out across the dark water and Katana emerged again, soaring upwards, expanding back to size and landing with a clatter of hooves. Hermione was certain the two beasts communicated, because a moment later Kelpie copied her beast, stepping into the case with a clink of shells and scales and vanishing.

It wasn't a moment too soon. A shout sliced through the air, bright spell fire splashing against the stone mere inches from Hermione. She was astride Katana in seconds, the beast surging into the air, spiralling sharply in his ascent so that a spell sparked off his resistant scales rather than hitting her.

Beneath them, Scamander was still a sitting duck as he hurried to scramble aside his terrified Granian and coax it into the air, all whilst cradling his precious case.

Hermione's wandless magic was still unsettled and unbalanced, so she whipped out her rarely used wand and sent Katana rocketing towards the closest broom-mounted wizard. He shouted in alarm, unprepared for the speed and agility of the beast. Katana snapped out his wings, rotating them forwards and giving a mighty beat, which sent them rocketing upwards and left Hermione's stomach somewhere near the lake as the downdraft sent the delicate broomstick twirling out of control. Katana's tail lashed forwards beneath them, catching the out-of-control wizard and throwing him clear of his broom. The momentum of the motion flipped Katana over so that for a bare second the were upside down, then he tucked in his wings and they dropped like a stone, the air resistance pressing Hermione firmly into the saddle as another spell crackled through where they'd just been. She levelled her wand behind her, firing off a stunning spell then gripped onto the left side of Katana's harness, just before the beast snapped out his left wing. They flipped sideways, Hermione riding it smoothly and firing off another spell before he'd even opened up his other wing, powerful downward stroke almost hitting the water even as it hurled them upwards and sent a broom careening sideways as the rider tried to avoid the flashing talons on Katana's wings. Hermione's next spell sent him cartwheeling backwards as his wand tumbled into the water below him.

Over by the beach, she noticed Scamander's beast finally taking off, sweeping off down the lake as fast as it's wings could carry it. But unlike a Longma, even the best Granian couldn't outrun a broomstick.

A flick of the reins sent Katana rocketing after a pursuing dark shape, climbing up and then dropping like a dart, snapping his wings out and lashing out with his hooves as they collided with the next wizard. There was a sharp snap of wood, a flash of bright red light as a spell deflected off Katana's belly, then the man fell out from beneath them and Katana with banking to the left. Hermione stood in her stirrups, the shift of weight signalling for Katana to spread his wings and glide, allowing her to fire three spells in quick succession - the bright white wardbreaker landed against her target with a sound like shattering glass, then the figure tumbled downwards looking like nothing more than a fluttering handkerchief as her spell broke the braking charm on the broom and it shot out from under it's rider.

A loud explosion behind her had Katana flipping and twisting in a sharp roll, racing across the water to where a pursuer had caught up with Scamander. The two were trading spells, the magizoologist holding his own well despite his terrified mount.

Katana almost collided with the Granian, rolling at the last minute to avoid a nasty tongue of fire that spurted from his wand. Hermione reached down, trusting the centrifugal force to held her in the saddle as they barrel rolled over the stunned magizoologist and broom-rider, snatching at the cloak the whipped out behind him. With a jolt that almost unseated her, the rider was torn from his broom. There was a moment where she thought she might have misjudged, then Katana was upright again and she'd let go of the cloak, the rider managed to hang briefly onto Katana's tail, then with an irritable flick, the beast sent them arching away with flailing limbs.

The sudden silence was eerie after the burst of action. Hermione vaulted around so that she was facing backwards in the saddle, narrowed eyes scanning the dark horizon behind them - the castle was already out of sight and apparently all the broom-riders had either been unseated or thought better of tangling with them.

She turned back around, keeping her weight carefully balanced as Mordred had taught her, then gave Scamander a large thumbs up to signal that they were seemingly in the clear. His beast was growing tired, Hermione noticed, and Katana easily overtook it, allowing the tiring animal to slide into his slipstream.

They followed the leyline back to Orkney, landing in the portal circle just as the sun began trace fire along the underside of the clouds.

'Unbelievable! I've never seen anything like it!' Scamander enthused as soon as they touched down. 'Wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes…'

Katana held his wings out and angled for Hermione to check them over for swelling or heat that may signal that he'd injured himself in their combat aerobatics. Scamander echoed her, following a moment behind and inspecting each joint closely, measuring the thickness of Katana's wing-leather and testing the motion of the massive limb.

'I would never have imagined a Longma to be capable… I mean, a dragon couldn't pull out of a dive like that… but look how thick this is, almost as thick as dragon hide - age or breeding, or perhaps developed during training?' Scamander whipped out his notebook and used the tip of his wand like a pencil to draw a quick sketch of a talon, testing it's razor edge with his thumb. 'How often does he get exercised?'

'Usually an hour each day with the guardians, but more when I'm in the castle. Lady Grindelwald often used to ask why she bothered giving him a stall.' Hermione smiled at the memory, letting a curtain of wind-wild hair obscure the expression from Scamander, not that she need have worried as the elderly man was preoccupied with an attempt to sketch the muscle structure of Katana's shoulder and rib cage.

In fact, the man didn't even seem to notice when Hermione sent a guardian to find her map, nor when she conjured a small flame to try and warm her hands whilst she sat on a large boulder to continue meditating and settling her magical core after the earlier apparition.

He finally resurfaced when the first rays of morning sun lanced across the island, warmth charging after it that didn't quite manage to penetrate the core, but was none-the-less pleasant on the skin. Hermione came back to herself to find the requested map on a nearby boulder - carefully embossed leather instead of ink and parchment, designed to be able to handle wet and rough treatment.

'I'll just meet you in Hogsmeade then?' Scamander suggested as Hermione tested her wandless magic by summoning the map to her hand and spreading it out on her lap. The crude depiction of the British isles was slightly more proportionate than one would have expected of the period, because the Gorlois line's cartographers had the advantage of the angular ley lines to help organise their landmarks and towns.

Hermione agreed to meet him in an hour in the small wizarding village, then passed the map back to a guardian and remounted.

Without the Granian to slow them down, Katana flew much faster and the wind was even more brutal because of it. Hermione loved the sunrise; how the sky looked like a watercolour painting and the bird ventured up into the sky, dancing and tumbling the in the turbulence of Katana's passage before wheeling off with musical cries to return to the jewel toned landscape below them. But even the cold wasn't enough to keep her awake after a long night of flying, and she leaned forwards against Katana's neck, cast a stick charm between herself and the saddle and trusted her beast to bear her to her destination, and fell asleep to the familiar thud of displaced air and gentle surge and glide of their passage.