It was a beautiful moment the next evening in detention when Hermione first put quill to paper. The unusually sharp tip scritched, scratched, the runes on the back of her hand glowed, and the quill failed to write.

At the desk behind her was Blaise Zabini, who'd somehow managed to graduate to Hermione-levels of hatred by being caught by Umbridge in a bathroom with Susan Bones after curfew. Contrary to popular opinion, Zabini did not go through as many witches as his mother did wizards, but getting caught in a compromising position in a bathroom was better than admitting they'd taken a wrong turn with their ritual addled minds and just exited the chamber of secrets on the third floor.

Harry was diagonally across and behind and Susan, looking like she still couldn't quite believe Zabini had kissed her, even for a cover, was next to Hermione.

It was Zabini's quiet gasp of surprise that first drew Umbridge's attention. She hopped from her chair, a move that would have looked childish and innocent on anyone else, but was sickening from the toady official, and bounced between the desks to reach him.

'Is something wrong, Mr Zabini?' Umbridge asked, sickeningly sweet. Bones twisted in her seat and Hermione caught Zabini's eye. Hermione had been aware of different factions within those who performed the ritual last night, and Zabini had been one of the strongest proponents that rituals didn't actually work. Now, upon receiving proof of not only showy magic and lights, but seeing the protection in action, he looked at Hermione with a slight awe in his usually blank eyes.

'The quill doesn't seem to be working, Ma'am.' Zabini winked at Hermione, then pulled on his perfected mask of suave indifference and looked up at the teacher, who loomed over him. With insolent carelessness he put quill to paper again, drawing large, looping swirls that did nothing but make the runes on the back of his hand glow. Fascinatingly, it caused a similar effect on Hermione's hand, and a quick nod from Harry confirmed that the effect must be happening across the entire group.

At first, Umbridge didn't seem to notice the marks. She looked dumbfounded by the failure of a dark magical instrument and couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the paper. Then, as if it took physical effort, her eyes dragged up to first his face and then followed his eyes to his hand. Zabini drew another effortless swirl on his parchment and the runes glowed again.

Umbridge's face turned puce with rage.

'Mine isn't working either.' Harry interrupted, as Umbridge drew breath to unleash her judgement on the Slytherin boy.

The witch faltered and Hermione took great satisfaction from the way her breath whooshed out of her.

'Nor mine.' Susan Bones piped in, offering her quill up to Umbridge with surprising bravery.

'What did you foul little children do?' Umbridge hissed, snatching up the quill from Susan with a fury that crumpled the dark feather. She spun, snatching up Harry's marked hand and yanking it towards her with a force that almost tugged the boy from his seat. For a second, she trust stared at it, then she dropped it and rounded on Hermione.

'You.' Umbridge hissed, 'this is your doing. Don't think I don't recognise these archaic scribbles.'

'It is.' Hermione admitted proudly, crossing her arms over her chest and tossing her hair slightly.

'The minister will hear about this! Blatant practice of dark magic on other students… proof! Proof of your corrupt influence!' Umbridge grinned widely, practically flying to her desk and whipping out a sheet of pink parchment and a plum coloured quill. 'Oh you've done it now. I've got you.'

To Hermione's surprise, it wasn't bold Blaise who interrupted Umbridge. Instead, Susan Bones was the one to speak up, outrage trembling in her voice.

'Blatant practice of dark magic on students?' Susan echoed incredulously. 'You've been using blood quills on us for weeks.'

'I assure you, Miss Bones, blood quills are quite legal.'

'Legal, sure.' Zabini drawled. His arrogant sprawl across his chair must be something bred into boys from powerful families. 'But Madam Bones might have a different opinion when she finds out you've been using one on her niece.'

From Susan's gasp, Hermione guessed that goings on at Hogwarts had been deliberately withheld from Madam Bones by the Hufflepuff, but Umbridge was too flustered to see that Zabini's threat was entirely empty.

'I'm sure Madam Bones will be more concerned to learn that her niece is engaging in the dark arts.'

'I think my aunt will consider a protective enchantment against your blood quills to be anything but the dark arts.' Susan Bones jumped up from her desk. 'And if you write to Fudge about anything, I'll have to tell my aunt to make sure she gets both sides of the story.'

'Oh, I doubt your aunt will believe you; a child clearly addled by Grindelwald's dark arts.' Umbridge's fear had morphed at the blatant threat, becoming something indistinguishable from anger.

'Maybe not, but my mother will believe me.' Zabini twirled his blood quill between his fingers; three heavy, golden family rings glittered on his fingers; testament to the number of influential wizards that had mysteriously died after Zabini's mother had married into their lines. 'Do you want to test whether you've forced enough of us into using these to convince the minister that Lady Gorlois' protection was necessary?'

Umbridge seethed, blood rushing to her ruddy cheeks. Pink parchment crumpled as her hands clenched on the desk and Hermione could almost see the furious thoughts running behind her eyes as Zabini held her gaze with cool detachment.

'Get out.' She finally spat. Zabini raised on insolent eyebrow, but got up smoothly, still holding Umbridge's gaze. Bones, clearly less used to the dark underbelly of politics and the casual blackmail, jumped up and fled.

'Miss Gorlois?' Zabini offered Hermione an arm and she took it with a victorious smirk in the direction of Umbridge; she was poking a bear, but it felt too good to finally have one-up on the awe full teacher.

They left, Harry hurrying after them. Susan, who'd escaped like a startled rabbit as soon as the order was uttered was already waiting outside the room.

'Auntie's going to kill me.' Susan moaned as soon as the door shut behind them.

'Don't be ridiculous, Bones. You're in the right here.' Zabini drawled, not dropping Hermione's arm. His magic was warm and rich, like decadent caramel or creamy ganache. Sweet, thick and smooth, neutral in the same way Neville's was, leaving an aftertaste where it brushed against her own. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was very different from any else she knew.

'She says I should never use her name to get my own way.' Susan protested.

'You're not using her name to get your way, Bones.' Zabini rolled his eyes. 'Besides, I was the one to bring it up.'

'And you had no right! What if she'd told my aunt that I'd joined an illegal defence class?' The Hufflepuff crossed her arms over her chest defiantly.

'She was never going to tell her anything.' Zabini scoffed.

'Zabini's right.' Harry agreed quietly, off to one side. 'I mean, you're right too; he should have asked you before throwing your name in there, but he's right that Umbridge never would have risked telling your aunt about what happening.'

'How do you know that?' Susan turned partially towards Harry, keeping her body blocking the corridor for the two Slytherins.

'Because that's what Slytherins are good at.' Harry explained, eyes flickering to Hermione and then Zabini. 'They know exactly how to do all that… cloak and dagger stuff.'

'They also know how to throw someone under an abraxan. Ambition and cunning and all that.' Susan retorted with a toss of her head in Hermione and Blaise's direction.

'Sure.' Zabini drawled, making a great show of offence. 'But aren't we all meant to be allies? Loyalty might be a Hufflepuff thing, but we're very loyal to our own in Slytherin.'

There was a long pause as Bones considered what Zabini had said, then she heaved a long sigh.

'Just tell me first next time.' She finally huffed, unfolding her arms and turning away.

'On my father's grave.' Zabini replied cheerfully, dark eyes flashing. He waited until the Hufflepuff had made it around the corner at the end of the corridor before turning towards Hermione.

'You owe me.' He announced, cheerful expression vanishing as quickly as it came.

'Do I?' Hermione asked archly,

'I want protection.'

'From what?' She continued the game, pushing for Zabini to reveal what he knew.

'The war. I know what's coming. Do you know how I knew that seasonal rituals don't work?'

'No.' Hermione couldn't help but concede.

'I knew because one of my step-fathers was part of a group - they called themselves the Order of the Triskelion - that practiced the rituals. Not one of them worked; a spooky atmosphere, some meagre spells… but last night… magic itself answered your call, and I am not such a fool as to fight against magic.'

'Oh.' Was all Hermione could muster. Zabini smirked, but there was an intensity to his expression that belied just how serious he was.

'I want to join in your rituals and religion. I want to join your circle - I want to be a part of your revolution.'

'I'm not leading some revolution.' Hermione protested.

'Oh, but you are.' Zabini argued. 'You're going to change the world and I want in, and I have connections that you're going to need.'

The Slytherin smoothly shifted her hand from his arm, twisting and placing a light kiss upon her knuckles as many purebloods did to witches of higher standing.

'Let me know your decision.' He bid, then he strode off down the corridor after Susan Bones, leaving Hermione to unfold the parchment that he'd pressed into her fingers as he kissed them.

Alice Tunninger visited Nurmengard last night.

Hermione blinked as the short message crumbled to ash in her hand, then looked up at Harry, who shrugged, a clear message that he didn't know how to respond either.

'Why?' Harry asked, idly offering his own arm and escorting Hermione down the staircase towards the hall. Hermione had no answer, but the wave of whispers that met them when they passed through the massive doors to dinner suggested she might soon know.

They parted, Harry giving a respectful nod of his head and passing her off to Theo who'd been waiting in the shadows for them.

'How many fortified islands do you own?' Flora Carrow asked as soon as they were within talking distance of the table, pushing a copy of the prophet over. Puzzled by the question and keen to know just what had occurred, Hermione picked up the paper and shook it open, quickly seeing the headline on the front page.

"MISC launch investigation into secret Grindelwald island."

Hermione had been hearing more and more about Alice Tunninger, but the image below was the first she had seen of her in the modern time. Hermione had admired Lady Longbottom's commitment to her clothing ever since she'd dressed up as a revolutionary herself to attend the magical. The elderly matriarch continued to wear heavy silk brocades, corsets and ornate hats despite having frequently admitted admiration for the lighter, more practical dresses and robes that Hermione and Anneken wore.

Alice reminded Hermione of Lady Longbottom; her dress had the same chin-high neck, painfully tiny waist and rounded, rump-like bustle at the back. Unlike Lady Longbottom, Alice wore her own weight in jewels; a cascade of thumb sized rubies in heavy settings, earrings which winked in the camera flash and rings and bracelets that almost disguised the useless claw that remained of her hand. Her hair was shorn into a neat bob, a sharp contrast to the curls that had once been a mirror to Hermione and Ginny's.

A decade ago, Grindelwald was a forgotten name destined to fade into the annuls of history. A once powerful family, reduced to a list of crimes and the memories of ageing parents.

Until the sudden return of his beloved and forgotten betrothed, believed dead after her sudden disappearance at the turn of the last century. Anyone unfamiliar with the name Hermione Gorlois, the Lady of the legendary Avalon Castle, betrothed of Gellert Grindelwald and Guardian of the equally famous Harry Potter, has surely been living under a rock.

Surging to prominence since her tragic transportation nearly a century into the future, Lady Gorlois has already proven herself to be cut from a different cloth to her ward-sibling in every way that matters. But with her rise in popularity has come increased scrutiny upon Gellert Grindelwald and the brutal conflict that lead to his rise to power and subsequent fall from grace.

Long time anti-Grindelwald proponent and purported villain of Hermione Grindelwald's story, Alice Tunninger, current head of MISC, in an unprecedented move before Christmas, used her emergency powers to restrict Gellert Grindelwald's access to his ward despite his position of Magical Guardian.

Now, in another unanticipated move by the chief of international security, no less than fifteen squads of aurors have been deployed to the previously unknown Grindelwald property of Hexemeer; a fortified island in the Baltic Sea, at a cost of two hundred thousand galleons to the public.

"In an early morning interrogation, Gellert Grindelwald let slip the presence of incriminating evidence against his betrothed and their traditional allies on the island." Alice Tunninger informed the press as her aurors scour the water on brooms to try and find the secret stronghold.

Upon asking just what evidence was worth the cost of two hundred thousand galleons, this reporter received only a vague answer about soul magic. To me, it looks like Alice Tunninger intends to discredit Lady Gorlois before her accusations of historic wrongdoing receive any scrutiny.

For an analysis of Lady Gorlois' account of history, turn to page 3.

For more on the life and career of Alice Tunninger, turn to page 5.

For all the rumours on the mysterious Hexemeer, turn to page 6.

For Cassandra Clarke's analysis of ICW spending, turn to page 7.

'There's nothing there.' Hermione announced to the surreptitiously listening Slytherin table. 'In fact, I don't even know where Hexemeer is, without a portal.'

'So you're not going to cooperate?' Flora Carrow asked in an undertone, looking around as if afraid she might be accused of conspiracy. Hermione scoffed and tossed her hair.

'Of course I'll cooperate, but so far nobody has given me anything to cooperate with.'

A quick glance up at the head table showed that the teachers were reading the articles as well; McGonagall had her lips pursed, Snape appeared disinterested and Flitwick was shaking his head as he spoke with Sprout over the paper. Dumbledore was absent; hardly surprising. Hermione didn't know as much about international law as she should, but she was willing to bet the ICW was in chaos. Two hundred thousand galleons was a lot, more than most families would earn in three generations and for someone to just throw it away without approval would be certain to cause uproar.

She wished she knew just what Gellert had told Alice she would find on the island; was it something she'd even created yet? It must have been enough to frighten the living daylights out of Alice to make her move so recklessly. Hermione could only hope that there wasn't something incriminating there that she had yet to even create and was therefore unprepared to counter.

But if there was nothing there, Gellert had made a truly masterful move. In a worst case scenario, Alice would spend weeks trawling through the Baltic Sea in search of whatever Gellert had told her she could find on the island. As it was, Rita Skeeter, ever Hermione's ally, had used her unique way with words to paint the head of MISC in even worse light. It was a picture so self-incriminating that Hermione doubted she could have engineered it if she tried.

And Zabini had known; he truly did have a contact in Nurmengard. Hermione caught his eyes down the table, signalling her acceptance of his offer with a sharp and decisive nod.

Perhaps, things were starting to look up?