After the intensity of fourth year exams, fifth year felt rather anticlimactic. Gellert no longer had anything to prove, and thanks to the study group all of his allies were far ahead of the expected levels of their group. Hermione wasn't there to provide competition, so Gellert could cruise his way into a clear position of top student with time to spare for his own reading and research.

Unfortunately, the teachers didn't take the conclusion of exams to mean the relaxation of classes. They were quickly reminded that they were only two years away from graduating and holiday work was piled on. Without access to the massive Grindelwald library, Gellert became one of the many students forced out of the sunshine and into the library to complete his holiday work before heading home for the summer.

'Grindelwald.' Jori dropped into the seat opposite Gellert, dropping a massive sheaf of aged parchment onto the aged wood with a thud that shook dust across Gellert's knees.

'Mustonen.' Gellert drawled in reply, barely glancing up from his sorcery assignment to switch to blue ink. Jori, used to the power play after almost a year of it, waited in silence until Gellert had finished filling in a section of his homework and returned the quill to it's holder with a tap.

'It's my demonology homework.' Jori informed Gellert once he had his attention. The massive sheaf was edged across the table, the frail temporary stitching that held it in a crude book straining against the unusual movement. Gellert blinked, waiting for further explanation. He hadn't bothered to take demonology; interacting with other planes was something that nobody understood, even if they tried to. The class was little more than hearsay, drawing on the barest scraps left in old rituals and passed down by word of mouth.

'Professor Donst said we'd be studying the fey next year.' Jori tapped the front page; Fey and Foul; a guide to the Sidhe plane by Jonathan Heath. It was a hand written title, clearly the book had never actually been published.

Five years ago, Gellert would have scoffed. The Sidhe Fey were a foolish concept created by wizards who didn't want to admit they didn't understand the world. Dryads and lethifolds, brownies and kelpies; they didn't reproduce and nobody knew where they came from. So wizards theorised that they came from another plane, ruled by legendary figures called Sidhe. Summoning the Sidhe was the only branch of magic explicitly banned by the old laws.

But now, Gellert had learned more. Legends had sprung to life around Hermione; Avalon, Sects and ancient Wixen Kings. He'd walked the halls of a rumoured fey city and seen the unnaturally smooth stone, a castle built without seams, organically grown from the cliffs on a scale beyond even the greatest wixen. And he'd met Morgana Le Fey, legendary witch and rumoured mortal consort of a Sidhe king. He also knew now that the old laws had been written as a direct response to the destructive conflict between the line of Gorlois and Merlin, so a specific mention against the Sidhe was hardly coincidental. He no longer doubted their existence. He might not believe every legend and word, but he wouldn't deny that some creatures existed on another plane.

'They say Hermione is fey.' Jori continued, glancing over his shoulder and lowering his voice as if he was telling some great secret. This time, Gellert couldn't help but scoff. That rumour had been circulating since she escaped the Russian Revolution and Gellert, who had been there, knew that she hadn't used anything more than sheer nerve, quick thinking and adrenaline fuelled reactions to ensure her survival.

Of course, that wasn't to say that he hadn't occasionally likened her to a fey himself, but that was just in appearance. Her clothing and hairstyles took heavy inspiration from her ancient Gorlois roots; a freedom in her dress that was simultaneously entirely societally acceptable but so entirely foreign. Constant training with both sword and wand left her lithe and fit, translating every motion into lethal grace whilst lessons on bearing and carriage from Gorlois combined with his mother's teachings and years of early responsibility left her with a maturity beyond her years. But he knew that it had all been founded in mortal means. Hermione was as much fey as himself.

'No.' Gellert concluded, eventually realising that Jori had expected a reply.

But then he found himself wondering again; how did he know that? She appeared inexplicably every morning and disappeared every night, unhindered by wards. She was powerful; far, far more powerful that anyone without centuries of selective Grindelwald matches had any right to be. And her patronus was a fey creature; impossible, because you couldn't have a patronus that was a creature from a different plane.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought; he'd seen her wearing iron, the greatest defence against the fey. The headless horseman of her patronus was clearly just another creature that wixen had yet to understand, and was even more proof that the Sidhe realm was not as much of a guarantee as people liked to believe.

'Oh.' Jori sounded disappointed, but perked up again almost straight away. 'Well, Veli and I's Da worked in the Department of Mysteries at the British Ministry of Magic.'

Gellert hadn't known that, and it made whatever Jori was about to say infinitely more interesting.

'He met our Ma when he came over for work; he was following something he believed to be Sidhe. He died before we were born - Ma thinks that whatever it was he found, didn't like being followed.' There was a beat of awkward, sombre silence. 'He left this book with Ma.'

'Jonathan Heath?' Gellert asked, reaching over and running his fingers over the fading ink.

'Our Da.' Jori confirmed.

Which meant that the roughly bound parchment contained secrets from the British Ministry of Magic. Secrets banned by even the liberal old laws, unknown to any of the public. Gellert reached for it, taking great care as he pulled it towards him.

Jori looked immensely satisfied, and Gellert paused before turning the first page.

'What do you want?' The Grindelwald heir demanded sharply, and Jori's lips split into a fiendish grin.

'I want you to help me finish it.' Jori demanded, the surreptitious glance over his shoulder suggesting that whatever he wanted to finish was not knowledge to be bandied about.

'Finish writing the book?' Gellert asked, wondering if it perhaps took a similar dark turn to his father's journals, and that was why Jori was so nervous.

'Yes.' Jori glanced around again, then reached over and opened the rough book to the back. Gellert recognised a ritual diagram immediately. He flicked back a couple of pages, taking in the immense detail and finally reaching a summary page - it was something immensely powerful; red bone, blood, seven containment and protective circles, a septogram with seven amplifying crystals and a sacrifice that must be a rare magical creature if the sketched calculations were to be believed.

'Circe.' Gellert swore, running his finger over it. The ritual was positively explosive if anything went wrong; that much volatile magic would find any flaw in the casting. He didn't even know what kind of creature could be sacrificed to proved that much magical power - a dragon, perhaps?

'We don't need to do it.' Jori's eyes were slightly feverish with excitement. 'I just want it finished so we can get it published.'

Gellert pursed his lips, then nodded. Jori grinned, sliding out of the chair with a respectful bow of his head. The Grindelwald heir couldn't help the feeling that he had just taken a dive off a tower - perhaps one whose parapet he'd been carefully balancing upon for a while. He could only hope there was a moat at the bottom to fall into, and that the parapet had been atop a prison rather than safe haven.